


How to Save a Life

by kartashyov



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Class Differences, Drama, Drug Addiction, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Mentioned Spamano, Minor Bad Touch Trio (Hetalia), Minor Violence, Past Child Abuse, Protective Older Brothers, Recovery, Smoking, Substance Abuse, The Germans Can't Talk About Their Feelings, art hoe erzse, gilbert and roderich are assholes, gilbert is emotional sometimes, ivan is a weirdo, jewish Roderich, lud is a little bit of an ahole in this sorry, oblivious germanics, past Switzerland/Austria, the author has an obsession with the word schatz and kaiserschmarrn oops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-01 10:10:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 50,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11484183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kartashyov/pseuds/kartashyov
Summary: After his older brother suffers another near-fatal overdose, Ludwig is desperate. Roderich steps in to help.Otherwise known as two dorks fighting and falling in love in Munich with some heavy backstory thrown in for fun. Yay!





	1. 1-30

**Author's Note:**

> Hello,  
> Welcome to yet another story where I make my faves be sad. I set out to write a positive, happy story and then this happened. Lmao.
> 
> I don't want to talk too much in the beginning other than to explain a bit about the German high school/secondary school system which I think will help some things make a bit more sense: for secondary school Germans take an exam that determines which of four schools they can get into. The highest ranking of those, gymnasium, is a three year route, focusing on theoretical studies, which leads to university once completed. The lowest ranking is realschule, which is usually four years, more practical, and leads to vocational school once completed, and not typically uni. There are similar systems in other European countries (i.e. the Netherlands).
> 
> Assume that anyone if anyone other than Gil, Rod, Lud, Erz, or Basch is present, they're speaking English.
> 
> I hate Switzy's given human name so I modernized it a bit, as you'll see.

_Day 1_

This wasn’t the first time Gilbert had woken up in an unfamiliar setting with a man sternly frowning down at him, and he was certain it also wouldn’t be the last. It was different now, however, in that a halo of grogginess still shrouded his mind from full clarity, and he knew the man looking down at him quite well—perhaps too well, for his liking.

“Roderich,” he struggled to whisper, turning his head away from the light, “Where the hell am I?”

Roderich let a self-righteous _tsk_ sound escape from his lips as he moved his hands, dressed up in his cozy black gloves, down to his waist. “Good morning, sunshine. You’re in my apartment.”

“Wow, of all the places I thought I’d end up, this was definitely the last.”

“It’s a serious matter, you imbecile,” the Austrian taunted, sitting down at the edge of the bed, “so pay attention.”

“Like, hell came before your house. Siberia came before your house. I would rather be in Siberia than be in your house.”

“Gilbert, listen!” His sharp voice, almost like a pitiful dog’s whine, caused said man to try and focus among the blur in his head. “Do you know why you’re here?”

“Quite frankly, I don’t.”

Roderich sighed heavily, his fingers restlessly redoing a button on his coat jacket. “Last night, you had dinner with your brother, at his house…and he slipped you two of my sleeping pills. So, you went out pretty quickly.”

Gilbert couldn’t help but laugh, loud and biting like a hyena, pulling up one of his numb hands to block out more of the lamp. “You drugged me? God, that’s somethin’ else. Now that you mention it, I do remember that kebab…”

Roderich watched him carefully, trying to keep a strong face, although his left eyebrow, quivering slightly, was giving his nervousness away. “You’re…you’re going to be staying here for a while.”

It was far too foggy in his mind and even Roderich seemed like a dream, painted in splotches of purple, a reject Claude Monet. The laughter kept coming and he just let it, understanding and comprehension be damned. “Mhm.”

“I…well, your brother is very worried about you. And he’s got so much on his plate that he just can’t devote the time…what I’m trying to say, Gilbert, is that it ends here. No more shooting yourself up with drugs. You’re going to get better, starting now.”

“ _Schatz_ , with you here, I’m already better,” Gilbert sputtered out, beginning to feel as though he was losing the battle between wakefulness and sleep.

“Gilbert…” Roderich said lightly, watching almost helplessly as the man disintegrated before him, sleep taking full control. He sighed to himself, pulled the covers gently over the German, and turned the lights back out, wondering aloud, “Perhaps two pills was far too much.”

_Day 2_

Gilbert shot out of bed violently, the heat overwhelming him. Somehow above the rapid thumping of his heart he could feel each individual cell in his body crying at the warmth, begging for the internal air conditioner to come on.

Slightly confused, he wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and stripped his pants off in a matter of seconds, standing up almost shakily. What day was it? It didn’t matter—he needed to go get high. The heat, the unfamiliarity, whatever, he just had to find his needles, and he was sure there was a bit left in his stash…

Walking out to find an unfamiliar hallway, he kept going until he reached an unfamiliar living room, where one too familiar person was peeling an orange calmly, intricately, in a way that managed to infuriate him.

“You’re finally awake,” Roderich hummed without even glancing up at him, his orange all the more important.

“Why the fuck am I in your house?”

“You don’t remember? I told you yesterday.”

“I don’t even remember yesterday.”

“Clearly,” Roderich retorted, finally beginning to line up the orange slices like boats in the harbor, while gently pushing the peels to the side of his plate.

“Roderich, damnit, you’re pissing me off. Okay, but it doesn’t matter. Where are my shoes? I’ve gotta go.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Roderich told him calmly yet assertively, standing in a motion of defense, “You’re staying here, under my supervision, for the next few months.”

Gilbert laughed again, this time with an underlying hint of anger. “Very funny, _prinzessin._ Jesus, why is it so hot in here?”

“Gilbert,” Roderich tried in a steady tone, “you’re going to get clean. No more heroin. It’s over.”

“The fuck…the fuckin’…who asked you? Did anybody ask you?” Gilbert argued, wiping more sweat from his forehead as he balled his fists together tightly. “This is not an intervention, I didn’t ask for your help, so give me my shit and I’m going home!”

“You’re not even wearing pants! You think you’re just going to leave without your pants?”

“I’m not wearing pants because it’s fucking _hot in here_ , but I have no qualms about rushing out the damn door without them, or my shoes for that matter! Who the fuck decided this? You fucking kidnapped me and now you’re trying to force me into detox? Who the hell gave you the right?”

“Ludwig is so worried about you,” Roderich felt his voice rise unconditionally, and his throat tightened at the feeling. “Clearly you weren’t there to see the look on his face last week when your blue body was rushed through the doors of the emergency room!”

“Alright, so I overdid it, but it doesn’t matter! I won’t do it again!”

“Gilbert, it’s an addiction! For Christ’s sake, you just need to get better.”

“You know what, I don’t have to deal with this, you fucking _blöde fotze_! I’m leaving!” As soon as he turned away with finality, ready to storm out of the building despite his lack of proper attire, Gilbert felt the heat surrounding him, which had been choking him from the moment he started talking, clench around his insides, and he brought a hand up quickly to cover his mouth. Without wasting another breath, he moved to the nearest area of disposal—the sink—and promptly began puking his guts out.

Roderich’s eyebrows twitched in minor disgust, and he set his orange slices down, watching as the utter mess known as Gilbert became miserably sick. He knew this was going to happen—he had done plenty of reading on the withdrawal stage, trying to understand what to expect—but he was still so squeamish around illness, and he felt a bit weak.

Once Gilbert had more or less collected himself, shakily leaning over the sink while running the tap, Roderich walked carefully over to him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder, which shivered under the touch. “Maybe you should get some more rest.”

Gilbert coughed a bit in response, his pride clearly having taken a hit. He had to get out of here, that was certain—but he couldn’t do it now. The absence of heroin in his body had thrown his rhythm off, and now his system was rebelling against him for all the pain he had caused. Breathing out heavily, he grazed a hand around the back of his neck, which was covered in sweat, and glanced at the refrigerator absently. “Do you have any ice?”

\--

Roderich kept a watchful eye for most of the night. Although withdrawal was rarely a cause for serious medical concern, he couldn’t sleep well with Gilbert hurling every half hour, ripping off the blankets in one moment and in another pulling them all back on.

It was just after he heard Gilbert make another trip to the bathroom, after unsuccessfully keeping down the bread and jam Roderich had offered him, that the Austrian’s phone began to vibrate against the old kitchen tabletop. He answered swiftly, standing in his night robe with only the light from the outside window for his strained vision. “Ludwig, you should really be sleeping.”

“So should you.”

They acknowledged these truths in silence for a few moments. Roderich heard the sound of the blankets hitting the ground and a faint groan.

“How is he?”

“He’s not well, but that’s to be expected. I think he’s running a bit of a fever, but he won’t let me check.”

From the other line, all he could hear was the faintest of sighs.

“He’s upset,” Roderich said softly, directing his attention towards the window, glancing out at the cars parked neatly against the sidewalk, the leaves moving silently against the light wind. “But he can’t do anything when he’s this sick. Just don’t worry about it right now. He’ll come around.”

“I don’t want him to hate me,” Ludwig admitted tiredly, and Roderich could almost hear the wrinkles appearing on his forehead.

“Oh, he could never hate you. It’s me he hates,” he said with a soft smile, pulling the curtain tightly against the window panes. “He had some choice words for me today already.”

“ _Gott_ , I am sorry…”

“You don’t need to apologize. Words are just words, and he knows plenty of them.”

More silence followed, and Roderich heard Gilbert toss around in his bed. Knowingly, Ludwig said, “ _Gute nacht_ , Roderich,” and Roderich responded in quick turn, leaving his phone on the kitchen table to retire for the night. He passed by his spare room, now accommodated to hold Gilbert for the next three months, and noticed the man beginning to shiver once more. He felt compelled to rush in, lift the blankets from the floor, and cover him quickly, smoothing out his sweat-ridden hair as best he could, but before he could even understand why he would think such a thing Gilbert grabbed them himself and readjusted, his eyes remaining closed the entire time.

Neither of them slept well that night.

_Day 3_

The day passed much the same, although Gilbert’s nausea remained stable, and he could eat more than he had been the day before. He was still staving off a fever, shaky, irritable, and anxious, although he said relatively little—he let Roderich calmly care for him, like a wounded soldier with a helmet full of pride, with only a few grunts and complaints. In reality, he was just too sick to fight back—he felt the heroin being cleansed from his body, and he just felt gross. No shower could fully strip away the excess skin, the grease from his hair, the racing of his heart. He hadn’t ever gone this long without it before. His head hurt so bad. Everything hurt. And he couldn’t even fight back.

_Day 4_

Roderich tried to get him to walk around the apartment a bit, but Gilbert’s complaints drowned out his encouragement.

“Every fucking muscle in my body hurts,” he whined, turning away from his Austrian nurse, who rolled his eyes in response but chose not to fight it, watching the way the German’s hands still trembled lightly.

There was thunder that night, unusual for Munich in the spring. It cracked from a distance and its blazes of light shot through the opened curtains in Roderich’s room, keeping him awake. His mind was drifting incessantly, from Talmud prayers to his most recent composition, when a sharp yell from that spare room flung him back into full life.

He rushed down the hall, forgetting to even grab his glasses, to find Gilbert sitting upright in bed, sweating even worse than he had been the first day. He kept shaking his head, as if someone was standing in front of him demanding an answer to some tough question. Once he noticed Roderich had entered the room, he gave him a panicked stare, quickly reverting to his normal nonchalant mood. “Oh, hey. Sorry.”

“What’s going on? Are you alright?”

Gilbert’s voice was far quieter than it usually was as he grabbed a towel to pat at his face. “Yeah, sorry to wake you.”

Roderich looked at him with genuine concern, the thunder cracking once more in the background, its ominous presence making the apartment feel cold and unwelcoming. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“It’s fine, okay? Just go back to bed,” Gilbert mumbled in a gruff tone of voice, getting back into a comfortable position and turning away as to make his point clear. Roderich left him alone, creeping back down the hallway in his slippers while being careful not to hit the creaky old floorboards. He paused just before heading back into his own room, turning to face the blacked-out hallway, trying to listen for any more sounds of distress. Other than Gilbert’s occasional tossing around, it was quiet.

_Day 5_

That morning Roderich had been working through some of his theory assignments when Gilbert trudged through the living room, still preferring to go without pants. He marched over to the small balcony window, peering out at it with assessing eyes, then turned to Roderich with a glare. “Where’s my cell phone?”

Taking a sip of his tea casually, the Austrian responded, “At your brother’s house. We brought you all your clothing, but left behind things you wouldn’t need. And you’re not exactly in a place to be trusted right now.”

“So do Antonio and Francis know that you kidnapped me?”

“Yes, of course. We told them.”

“And those bastards didn’t even say anything…” Gilbert shook his head, going back to zoning out the window. Roderich, although confused, let him do as he pleased, figuring he wasn’t stupid enough to try and jump six stories down a building.

Gilbert whipped around once more, his glare hardened and menacing. “My cigarettes. Where are my cigarettes?”

“At home, I suppose. Ludwig emptied all your pockets.”

“God fuckin’ damn it!” Gilbert yelled suddenly, stomping over to the Austrian’s table and pushing his work aside. “I need to smoke, Roderich!”

“Why don’t you give your body a break from all the poison you put in it? You’re still sick, after all, you really don’t need any more stimulants.”

“Fuck you,” Gilbert seethed at him, taking a seat beside him at the table to pout miserably. “The second this fucking fever breaks, I’m outta here.”

Roderich picked up his papers and began to go over them again, ignoring Gilbert’s rage. “Yeah, sure.”

“Hey, what are you even doing? Is that school work? Don’t you have classes this week?”

Glancing at him tiredly from the corner of his glasses, Roderich replied, “Yes, but I said I was going on a trip this week, back to Vienna. I couldn’t very well leave you here alone the first week.”

Resting his chin on the table, Gilbert continued to stare the man down coldly, trying to read his mind or pick up something from his all too casual demeanor. “Why the hell would you do that? Like, why are you doing this? You hate my guts.”

Roderich began erasing some notes that he found unpleasing, making the sounds of the piano in his head, hearing them clash automatically. “I’m not doing this for you. Ludwig, despite his best intentions, is an enabler towards you, and he can’t tell you no. So someone who takes no pleasure in letting you do whatever you want had to be the one to rail you in, and I can think of no better person other than myself.”

“I have such a fucking headache,” Gilbert complained, bringing his hands up to massage his forehead in exasperation. He seemed to accept Roderich’s explanation as valid—he could never admit when someone was right, Roderich noted with a small smile.

“I’m sorry. Do you want some aspirin?”

“No,” Gilbert mumbled against the table, and Roderich noticed his hands were still a little shaky. “I think I should just go back to bed.” He stood slowly as he started to head for the spare room, stopping just before the hallway before turning around. “Hey.”

Roderich glanced up at him, trying to avoid staring at his lower half, the backside of his boxers hugging tightly against his…well, so much for avoiding staring, Roderich thought. “Um, yes?”

“Sorry I called you a cunt the other day. I mean, you are a giant cunt, but sorry I said it to your face.”

Roderich moved a hand delicately in front of his lips to hide the smile that beamed on his face. “It’s fine.”

With that the German retreated back into the bedroom, and Roderich made a point to tell him once he woke up that he really needed to start wearing pants.

_Day 6_

The headache that Gilbert had been sporting the previous day wasn’t going to back down without a fight, and it left him bedridden for much of the day. Roderich finally convinced him to take some aspirin, but it didn’t seem to help much; the grumpy German would sleep for a few hours, then wake only to complain about his maladies, eat a little bit and then take some more medicine. He was at least quiet enough that Roderich managed to get some of his work done, so he couldn’t say he was too inconvenienced.

Gilbert did seem to be looking better—he wasn’t nearly as pale, his fever had broken, his nausea was almost gone. It wasn’t going to be long before he was practically wrestling Roderich to escape out the front door. Luckily he had a secret weapon, he admitted to himself with a sly smile, but he knew altogether that the next few months were going to be extremely trying.

_Day 7_

It was the first day the two actually shared a proper meal together. Breakfast was Roderich’s favorite meal, and he typically invested the most energy in preparing it: toast, jam, coffee, tea, cold cuts, cheese, and fruit. Maybe even yogurt, if he felt so compelled.

Behind the picturesque spread of food was Gilbert, who wore a perpetual scowl on his face behind a pitcher of milk. The purple-colored bags under his eyes were indicative of his mental state, and his lips remained tightly pulled together, as if he was thinking up the perfect insult to bestow upon Roderich that morning.

Roderich, for his part, was doing his best to ignore it. As he spread some more strawberry preserves over a slice of toasted bread, he asked politely, “How are you feeling today?”

Gilbert crunched a piece of fig with his fang-like teeth, his piercing eyes boring down into Roderich’s with precision. “Just fuckin’ great.”

Patting at the corner of his mouth with a napkin, Roderich moved to scoop a bit of sugar into his morning coffee. “Would you like to go for a walk today, then? It’s been a few days since you’ve been outside. Some fresh air might do you well.”

“What am I, your fuckin’ dog? If I behave then I get to go on a walk? Please tell me you won’t keep me on a leash.”

“I don’t even own a leash.”

“Hey, I’m not in the position to judge what kinda weird things you do in the bedroom when I’m not here.”

Roderich flushed and glared back at the man, who was now wearing the smallest of smiles from his minor verbal victory. “Gilbert, do you want to go or not?”

“How do you know I’m not going to run away?”

“Where would you even go? If you go to Ludwig’s, he’ll hand you back over. Same with your friends. Nobody is supporting your habits anymore.”

Gilbert huffed a little, taking another gulp of coffee. “Alright, whatever. Let’s go outside. I feel a little claustrophobic anyway.”

\--

It was a bit chilly that day, and both Gilbert and Roderich had chosen to wear their gloves. Roderich’s were nice, made of black leather and form-fitting; he wore them frequently while playing the piano to keep his fingers from hurting too badly. Gilbert’s were a bit thread-bare, struggling to meet the definition of ‘adequate’; there were quite a few holes in the palms, and the material wasn’t very thick to begin with. Roderich felt compelled to ask if he wanted to borrow a pair, but he knew Gilbert would just be insulted and it would only make their already volatile relationship even worse.

They walked through the Hofgarten at a leisurely pace, in complete silence. Passersby might have assumed them to be total strangers who just happened to be walking close together. Roderich felt a bit uneasy, fearing that even despite their earlier conversation Gilbert might run off at any moment; but really, where would he go? Would he hide in a bush until dawn fell? Jump in the pond and breathe underwater for a few minutes? There were too many people around anyway, and no matter how angry and irrational Gilbert was, he was also far too clever, and any possible chance at escape he would have already thought through.

“Hey, what day is it?” Gilbert asked suddenly, putting a moratorium on the silence that surrounded them.

“Oh, that’s right, I suppose you don’t even know…it’s Friday.”

“Alright,” he nodded calmly, his gaze directed towards the sky thoughtfully. “And…how long am I your prisoner for?”

“Ludwig and I agreed on 90 days. We thought it would be enough time for you to realize you can live without heroin.”

Gilbert scoffed lightly, rolling his eyes like a moody teenager. “Man, you’ve really never done drugs before, have you? It’s not that easy. It’s always with you. You’re always going to want it.” To make his point he rolled up the sleeve of his hoodie, revealing, among other things, a few tattoos, his abnormally pale skin, and, most jarringly, track marks on the inside of his elbow. “Even if I win this battle, I’ve gotta look at these fucking things for the rest of my life.”

Roderich felt himself staring with a ghostly look, and although he knew it was quite rude, he couldn’t help himself. The marks were not horribly prominent, and the bruises surrounding them were light, but as soon as they were pointed out it was impossible not to look.

Gilbert smiled bitterly at him, rolling his sleeve back down as the biting air felt uncomfortable on his still sore arm. “Yeah. That’s how most people look when they see them.”

“I’m, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s fine.” He brought his gaze back to the sky, and Roderich could see the distance in his eyes. “I have always wanted to quit, you know. It’s just not easy.”

Roderich frowned a bit, remaining quiet so Gilbert felt free to talk. It wasn’t often that he chose to open up like this.

“I know it upsets Ludwig. When I first started I would only do it when it was easy to get away with. When you guys were in gymnasium and you lived in the student housing, and you’d only come visit on the weekends, I could usually hold it together. But it just got worse and worse, and then you know, once Ludwig got to university I lost the apartment, and had to move in with him at his new place, and then it was all over. But I’m sure he suspected something was wrong.” Gilbert laughed softly, pushing a strand of hair out of his face. “Didn’t you?”

Roderich seemed surprised at being dragged into the story, but he felt almost honored, in a way, that Gilbert had even remembered his place in his life. “I knew something was wrong,” he started slowly, “but I didn’t know what exactly. You seemed really energetic and happy in some moments and then really moody in others. And on Sundays, you were always trying to push us out as soon as possible, telling us we needed to go back to the dormitory, do our homework, so you could clean or something.”

“Nope,” Gilbert laughed more freely that time, “Drugs. By Sunday I was ready for you guys to get the hell out so I could get high again.”

The silence that followed them in the beginning came back subtly, although neither felt the urge to break it. It seemed appropriate, after such a heavy discussion, to end it peaceably, with the light blowing of the wind and children’s laughter as the background soundtrack.

On the way back to Roderich’s apartment they passed a small kiosk, and Gilbert started rummaging through his pockets rapidly before remembering what had become of his possessions. “Roderich, give me some cash.”

Roderich looked affronted and glanced at him in confusion. “Care to explain what for?”

“I need some smokes, damnit.”

“Can’t you live without them, too? They’re destroying your lungs.”

“Roderich, _du dumm österreichisch_ , I can go without one vice, but please do not take all of them from me. Smoking makes me sane.”

Scrunching his nose at the insult, he handed the German nuisance a ten euro bill and watched as he disappeared quickly into the small store. He came out moments later, cracked the plastic barrier on his wrist, and within a matter of seconds had a lit cigarette dangling out of his mouth, blowing out an uneven ring of smoke with a boisterous smile. “Oh, _Gott in Himmel_ , it’s just as wonderful as I remembered. Ah, I feel so much better now.”

“You can’t smoke in my apartment.”

“On the balcony?”

Roderich sighed in frustration, but he supposed that compromise was the only way they could remain civil. “Fine.”

_Day 8_

For lunch that day Gilbert had insisted they eat something a little more to his tastes, which Roderich had been wary of, especially since he treasured his kitchen and its pristine sacredness just as much as his prized piano. He was pleasantly surprised, therefore, when Gilbert turned up a lightly-seared vegetable dish served in creamy white sauce. “ _Der Alte Fritz_ ate this himself,” he grinned while serving it, secretly relishing in the shocked look on Roderich’s face.

Although it was comfortable for them to eat in silence, Roderich saw Gilbert’s good mood as an opportunity to try and connect. “So, you know what I study…what did you study?”

If there was a way one could chew food sarcastically, Gilbert did just that. “Aerodynamics and petroleum engineering. What the hell are you talking about?”

“What do you mean?”

“I never went to uni, dummy. I barely made it through _realschule_.”

“Oh,” Roderich tried not to sound too shocked, letting his knife come to rest on the plate. “Well, would you ever want to go?”

“Well, I’m kind of stupid as shit, so probably wouldn’t make it through.”

“Stop it, you’re not stupid,” Roderich swatted a hand at him as if to make his point, “you’re just not confident.”

“Come on, man, I’m a drug user and a borderline alcoholic. Any viable brain cells I had left probably perished in the line of fire. What kind of a career would I even be good at other than to insult people all day?”

“I think you would make a fine politician.”

“You’re starting to sound like you’re the one who does drugs.”

“I’m not trying to flatter you. You have all of those qualities: you’re charismatic, persuasive, good-looking, flashy and annoying, and you can talk anyone’s ear off.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, go back a second, did you just say I’m good-looking?”

Roderich frowned quickly as he felt a touch of heat rise to his face. “I wasn’t speaking from personal opinion, just in general!”

“That sounds like a really fancy way of saying that you find me sexy but you just don’t want to admit to it,” Gilbert smiled even wider, polishing off his plate and standing to attend to the dishes, with suddenly far more pep than he had had in weeks. “Man, I should cook for you more often. Tell me, is it my irresistible smile, my toned physique? My undeniable charm?”

“I’ve changed my mind, you’re nothing but a nuisance and you would make a horrible public servant,” Roderich announced while also taking his leave, stomping over a bit furiously to his piano to play out his aggression, loudly, so as to silence any further commentary from the German.

Gilbert considered that day a good one. He wasn’t quite sure why, but it just was.

_Day 9_

“Where are you going, all fancy lookin’ this early in the damn morning?” Gilbert inquired from behind a cup of coffee, his elbows sprawled out unceremoniously across the table.

“It’s Saturday,” Roderich replied without a second thought, his mind focused on grabbing the necessary things; keys, wallet, phone, anything Gilbert couldn’t get his hands on. “It’s my day of worship.”

“Ah, right, forgot you were still a Jew.”

“It’s not as if it changes.”

“Mhm,” Gilbert mumbled, popping another grape in his mouth lazily. “Well, what the hell am I supposed to do all day?”

“I have a television. And plenty of books. Just don’t touch my piano. Oh, and I forgot to tell you, if you’re feeling up to it tomorrow, Ludwig wants to meet for lunch.”

“Yeah, sure whatever. But hey, aren’t you worried I’ll try and escape?”

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you,” Roderich said with a smile, slipping his shoes on at the front door while adjusting the keys in his pocket. “You might find that escaping is far more difficult than you would imagine. I’ll see you later. Don’t destroy the place, and don’t smoke in my house.”

As soon as the door had shut behind him, Gilbert set his coffee cup down slowly, his eyes fixated on the door as he counted silently in his head. He would give it six minutes; exactly six minutes, and if Roderich hadn’t come back in that time, claiming to have forgotten something, then he was in the clear.

As soon as the timer in his brain had gone off Gilbert set to putting his shoes on quietly, wondering if there was a monitor somewhere in the house listening in on his movements. He pocketed his cigarettes, smoothed out some unruly strands of hair, and smiled wickedly to himself. He had no real plan, of course, and of course he knew somewhere deep down that it was going to backfire almost instantly, but his brain was screaming out at him for more heroin. His nostrils were deceiving him, and his taste buds were all off, and his skin crawled at night, and no number of cigarettes or wishful thinking could ward off that unholy craving.

Roderich had been so foolish, thinking he would just sit complacently and watch TV. Gilbert Beilschmidt was no fool; he was a free man, and he did as he pleased.

As soon as he stepped through the aged door, his foot barely touching the ground, a strident alarm began blaring in his ears, and in no time the door in front of him opened, displaying the shadow of a woman who, at first glance, was not as tall as him, but certainly as powerful. He remembered his lips opening slightly before the sound and feel of metal crashed against the side of his head, and then everything was blank.

\--

It couldn’t have been more than a few hours later when Gilbert awoke on Roderich’s pristine taupe-colored sofa, a pack of ice placed carefully over his head. He began to question why when a shot of pain suddenly reminded him, and he closed his eyes against the harsh light.

Beside him was Roderich, sipping a cup of tea and flipping through a newspaper with apparent interest. “I see you met my neighbor, Erzse.”

“What?” Gilbert questioned groggily, still trying to accurately recall his last moments of consciousness—the taste of freedom, a warrior goddess, and then…

“I told you it was a bad idea to try and escape.”

“What the fuck was that? You set your bitch of a neighbor to attack me if I tried to leave? And you set up an alarm?!”

“I’m not stupid, Gilbert,” Roderich said calmly, skipping past the Sports section for the much preferable Arts and Culture. “I knew the second I stepped out of the house you were going to try and leave, and Erzse is, well…”

“The human embodiment of the war goddess?!”

“She served in the Hungarian Defense Force, I believe…”

“Jesus Christ, she hit me in the head with like, a frying pan! She could’ve gotten the point across a million different ways!”

“I told her that necessary force could be used when appropriate.”

“Fuck you,” Gilbert groaned bitterly, adjusting the ice pack on his head as he could practically feel the throbbing bruise forming on his temple. Roderich merely continued to sip his tea with a smile.

_Day 10_

They met Ludwig at a café near the city center, a newer one that hadn’t been discovered and devoured by all the tourists just yet. Both Gilbert and Roderich could see as soon as they saw the broad-shouldered blond man that he appeared nervous—his eyes darted back and forth more than usual, and he fidgeted with an empty packet of sugar he had used for his coffee.

Whatever nerves Ludwig had were washed away for a second once Gilbert enthusiastically greeted his younger brother, rushing over to the table to embrace him heartily. “Luddy! You won’t believe the horrible things Roderich’s been doing to me! Every night he ties me to a chair and makes me listen to his shitty piano compositions!”

Roderich grimaced as he took his seat across from the brothers, although he was secretly happy to see Gilbert so animated for once. “I would never do that to you, your incessant complaining would drown out my beautiful music.”

Ludwig smiled in his usual modest way and only flinched slightly at the feeling of Gilbert ruffling his hair. “I’m sure he’s treating you better than that, _bruder_.”

“So, how is school? Did your test this week go okay? Meet any hot girls yet? How was football this week? Are you eating okay?”

“Gilbert, please, everything is fine. I want to hear about you,” Ludwig looked at him tenderly, as Roderich watched their elbows bump together on the table, neither seeming to mind. “How are you feeling?”

Gilbert scoffed as if the question had come out of nowhere, glancing off to look over the menu. “I’m fine! Everything’s great. Well, _die österreichische prinzessin_ is annoying, but other than that. He also has a crazy frying-pan wielding neighbor.”

The conversation, which Roderich found himself mentally keeping tabs on, went much like that; Ludwig would skirt around an important question, and Gilbert would feign from directly answering anything of the sort. Their conversation was light, bouncing between football matches to the soup Roderich had ordered (“That’s not very manly,” Gilbert had commented rudely); it didn’t seem like either of them wanted to talk about Gilbert’s overdose, or his new living situation. Roderich wondered if Ludwig had even seen his track marks, but he pushed the thought aside for the moment, trying to make like the brothers and avoid reality for just a little while.

_Day 11_

Roderich didn’t have classes on Monday, but he typically used the day for working on assignments; there was always something to be done, something to be studied. Oddly enough he felt self-conscious playing his piano in front of Gilbert. He couldn’t imagine why—he had played for large crowds of complete strangers, and there was no one whose opinion he cared less for than Gilbert’s—but with every note he played he wondered if the German was grading his performance, sneering and hiding bits of laughter. Every time he would turn around, however, Gilbert didn’t even appear to be looking in his direction—he was lost in some magazine, looking vaguely disinterested but otherwise completely normal.

It happened again that night, just as the rain started to come down outside. Roderich had just set his book down on the bedside table—a historical monograph on the recent history of Czechia and Slovakia—when another abrupt yell came from down the hallway. Within moments Roderich was at the spare room’s door, glancing inside to find the same sight he had encountered a few nights before: Gilbert, sitting upright, looking wildly disheveled.

Once he noticed Roderich in the door, he flinched and reached for the pillow behind him almost instinctively, before taking another second to look the figure over. “Jesus, Roderich?”

“Yes, what’s the matter? You yelled again.”

“Oh, holy God, I thought you were…” he breathed out tiredly, placing a shaking hand to his chest in a sign of relief. “The lighting, I thought…well, never mind.”

Roderich was utterly confused, but if he knew Gilbert he was unlikely to be in a talkative mood at such a time. “Do you need anything?”

“No, damnit, go to bed,” was the gruff response he received, and Gilbert turned over in bed to block him out once more. Roderich ran a hand through his hair, a tic he picked up when he felt anxious, but ultimately turned back around and did as he was told.

_Day 12_

Roderich had left for classes early in the morning, and Gilbert knew he was going to be spending most of the day alone. Munich’s busy university life meant that a sizable portion of its inhabitants were students, and Roderich and Ludwig were among them. Gilbert liked the city decently enough, he supposed, but he would always prefer the North, and his thoughts were occupied as such as he stood on the balcony that morning, cigarette in hand.

He had gotten to a point where he couldn’t really tell what he was feeling. He hated having to give up his freedom and he hated being alone, and he really hated that he couldn’t give up the intense cravings for heroin that still radiated through his body every single day, but things were surprisingly not all that bad. For one, he hadn’t spent any of his own money, which was always a plus. He wasn’t doing drugs anymore, which was, supposedly, a good thing. And weirdly enough, he found himself enjoying Roderich’s company. He was quiet, which Gilbert appreciated most, as he liked being around someone without the obligation of conversation. When they did talk, he was rather witty, which was always entertaining. Most of all he never seemed directly offended by Gilbert’s crass language, which generally sent most sane people running for the hills. No, Roderich seemed to tolerate him, and it made living with him feel quite natural.

Shaking his head as he stubbed his cigarette out into the ash tray, Gilbert couldn’t believe the words he was thinking. There was no way he _enjoyed_ living with Roderich. He would much rather be out of his stupid stuffy apartment, getting high and drinking and crashing on Ludwig’s sofa the next morning. What the hell was going on in his mind? Roderich was annoying, uptight, and snobby. He wasn’t a charity case. And besides, what did he even know about Roderich? That he played piano? That he had been Ludwig’s best friend since gymnasium?

Curious (and alone) he decided he had no better things to do than snoop around Roderich’s apartment. He had already thoroughly investigated the kitchen, which contained nothing interesting: Roderich was the type of person who ate healthy, but had loads of chocolates and cookies buried in one of the cabinets, for his late night binge-sessions once he thought Gilbert was asleep. Everything was neatly put away, and his stray papers which occasionally littered the tables had been organized and placed on his piano bench.

The living room remained much the same, with everything in a neat, well-decorated fashion. Gilbert wondered if he ever had people over; although it was a bit small, the apartment was so perfectly designed that it would make sense to host nice parties with fancy finger foods here.

Gilbert’s spare bedroom contained no traces of Roderich’s personal affects, and neither did the bathroom. With a bit of trepidation, he toed carefully into Roderich’s own room, wondering if that had some alarm on it too. Once he had entered without anything beeping or hitting him in the face, he began to rifle through the drawers of clothing, hoping to find some secret stash of porn or alcohol that made him less prissy and more human.

He was rather disappointed—only expensive clothes were hidden away in the fancy bureau—but when he looked up at the well-crafted piece of furniture he found something more interesting. At least a dozen frames of photos sat neatly lined up on the top shelf—most of them black and white, some of them quite old looking. Most of them were group shots, but a few were portraits, and Gilbert could even see in one of them a young boy with a serious facial expression, sitting between two well-dressed adults—Roderich, when he was younger.

“They must be family photos,” Gilbert whispered aloud to himself, picking up an older one of a woman who resembled Roderich in the slightest. It was bit unusual, he thought, to have so many pictures of one’s relatives in one’s bedroom. If he had brought someone home for the night, he couldn’t imagine the poor girl’s face as she stared directly into the portrait of an old family member while being screwed into the headboard.

“But he wouldn’t bring anyone home…would he?” Gilbert found himself questioning, setting the picture down to turn to Roderich’s bed. The mauve-colored silk sheets and accompanying duvet seemed perfect for the Austrian to get his beauty sleep in, but Gilbert found himself more interested in the bedside drawer. If he _was_ bringing girls home, surely there would be proof, Gilbert rationalized, rattling through the old oak drawer to find a history book, a case for his glasses, a bottle of lotion…other than the lotion, nothing that even hinted at sexual encounters.

“God, why the fuck do I care?” He yelled out in frustration, slamming the drawer shut and stomping from the room. His hands felt restless and he balled them into fists repeatedly to get some movement out of them. If only there was a gym or something, where he could beat his rage out. He used to go to the gym a lot, before he started with heroin…he thought suddenly about that Erzse girl. She had to be going to the gym, and frequently…maybe, if he could convince her he wasn’t a complete bastard, she could help him out.

_Day 13_

Gilbert tried to remain casual as Roderich was leaving that morning, as if he weren’t excited to put his plan in action, although he knew he probably came off a little strong after wishing Roderich a good day at classes when he was leaving. The Austrian raised an eyebrow at him, but, more concerned with being late, left without questioning his motives.

It was maybe 11:30 in the morning when he decided to strike. The only nerves he had were from her quick reaction time—she didn’t even ask what he was doing before striking him down during his escape attempt. This time he would have to make sure to get a word out before she moved to attack.

He opened the front door only slightly, setting off the alarm while still giving him the protection of the wood in case another frying pan lurched out at him. Within seconds, just as he expected, the door across the hall flew open, revealing that same ominous figure, although the lighting was better this time, giving him a better look at the warrior goddess. He wasted no time yelling, “Wait! I’m not trying to leave, I just want to talk to you!”

The frying pan paused mid-air, and the warrior goddess seemed to consider his request. Leaning forward to grab Gilbert by his collar, she dragged him out into the hallway, looked him over, and sighed, “Do you take sugar in your coffee?”

\--

Erzse Héderváry had long mouse-brown hair that naturally curled at the ends. Her face was dotted by some errant acne, but her tanned skin was otherwise stoically beautiful. Her arms were muscular and her figure curvy, and if Gilbert didn’t doubt that she had her fair share of suitors.

Her apartment was a bit of a mess, which didn’t really bother Gilbert, but he imagined that every time Roderich entered he was filled with disgust. There was a large canvas set up near the window, with tubes of paint laying haphazardly around various parts of the room. In an attempt to make conversation, he asked her with a laugh, “So, you’re an artist?”

“What do you want, Gilbert?”

“Who says I want anything? Maybe I’m just damn bored out of my mind and knew that you were the only other person I could talk to at this time of day?”

Erzse stirred the spoon in her coffee around slowly, watching him with cautious eyes that were all too cat-like. “I don’t have any reason to trust you, do I? So what makes you think I’ll start now?”

Gilbert crashed back against the couch cushions and sighed tiredly, wondering how Roderich considered this woman to be a friend of his. “How long have you lived here?”

“In this apartment? Maybe two years.”

“And you’ve known Roderich the whole time?”

“Well, not the whole time, but soon after I settled in. We do live across from each other.”

“I gathered that,” Gilbert responded sarcastically, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. “And how—“

“My turn,” she interrupted quickly, placing her mug delicately onto the coffee table. “How do you know Roderich?”

Gilbert glanced at her uneasily, but he realized the only way to get her to play along was to be receptive. “My brother went to gymnasium with him. Uh, secondary school. I don’t think you call it gymnasium in Hungary.”

“Oh, Ludwig’s your brother? You don’t look much alike.”

Taking a sip of his coffee, Gilbert tried to imagine the bitterness he felt in his throat was from the drink and not the comment. “Different mothers.”

“But how do _you_ know him? Clearly just knowing your brother wasn’t enough.”

“On the weekends when they didn’t have classes, they sometimes both came and stayed with me, since, you know, Roderich’s from Austria. Some weekends he went home, other weekends he came to my place with Ludwig. Just depended on what was going on, I guess. Now it’s my turn again. What made you come to Munich?”

Erzse smiled a bit, lifting a stray hair from her shirt and letting it drop to the floor. “I wanted a change of pace, and there’s a decent art scene around here. I’ll always be from Budapest, but it’s nice to be uncomfortable in a new place every once in a while. Now, what made you come to Munich?”

“I’m German, can’t you tell?”

“Of course dummy, but you’re not from here. You sound _saupreiss_.”

“You’ve got me pegged,” Gilbert grinned back at her. “We’re Northerners, through and through. So it does me no great pleasure to live in the land of the fuckin’ Bavarians.”

“So why, then?”

Gilbert found himself looking down into his cloudy cup of coffee, finding it hard to meet her eyes continuously—he felt like she could see directly into his soul, and the only reason she even asked him questions was just to appear as though she didn’t know the answers. “When I got custody of Ludwig, I spent a lot of time looking up the best gymnasiums, because he’s a smart kid. He tested really highly and there was one here that I thought would suit him best, even though it was expensive. So we came here.”

“How did you pay for it, then?”

“Uh-uh, it’s my turn. How close are you and Roderich?”

“We’re quite good friends, I would say. Now, my question.”

“I worked a lot. My turn again—what do you know about him?”

Erzse laughed a little, furrowing her eyebrows at the strange question. “What do you mean?”

“I feel like I know nothing about him.”

“Why don’t you ask him? You do live with him, after all.”

“It’s a temporary arrangement,” he defended, “And the best way to figure someone out is never to ask them directly. It’s to ask those closest to them.”

Erzse considered his request, biting at her nails as she thought. “Well…I’m not sure what you’re looking to hear. You’ve probably gathered that he’s quite anal, he likes order and routine, he’s talented…and he misses Austria, of course. He has a strong connection to his family.”

“Have you seen the pictures?”

“In his bedroom? Of course.”

Gilbert felt annoyed at that last part, but he kept his lips tightly shut. “So they’re family photos, then.”

“Yes. He cares deeply about people, despite his snobby nature…they just have to mean something to him.”

Gilbert started to chew on the inside of his mouth pensively, glancing around Erzse’s apartment once more to avoid looking into her eyes.

“I have one last question, Gilbert,” she asked softly, leaning back against the cushions piled on her loveseat. “Why did you come here today?”

Almost robotically, he spit out, “Because ever since I quit the drugs I have all this energy again, and I want to get it out somehow. You seem pretty ripped. Do you think we could go to the gym together on the weekdays?”

Erzse seemed a bit surprised by his response, but nevertheless she paused her nail biting to smile earnestly at him, remarking, “I don’t see why not. Just know that if you try and escape, I definitely run faster than you.”

Gilbert shook his head although he had turned around, focusing his distant gaze at that large canvas once more, trying to make sense of it in the fleeting amount of time he had left. “I can only imagine.”

_Day 14_

Roderich came home early that day, surprising both Gilbert and himself. He lived close enough to the university to where he could have just gone home for lunch every day, but he usually preferred to eat outside and soak up the essential vitamins of the sun instead. That morning he had ‘forgotten’ to bring his lunch, he tried arguing with himself, although he knew too well that he hadn’t really forgotten it—something, some vile part of his brain, had gone crazy enough to actually _want_ to eat with Gilbert.

He tried to psychoanalyze himself on the walk home as to why this was—perhaps it was that feeling of completeness at two people sitting in the two kitchen chairs he owned, eating at the table that was perfect for just two people. Maybe it was the sound of someone else’s breathing other than his own that was comforting. Whatever it was had nothing to do with Gilbert himself—the man was ridiculous, obnoxious, moody, and rude, and certainly not a well-mannered lunch guest.

That was how Roderich was currently sitting across from his German roommate, eating sandwiches in tandem, having formed a sort of Fordian assembly line in creating the stacks. Roderich had a cup of tea at his side while Gilbert guzzled down a Coke Zero, one of the many requests he had during a trip to the grocery store.

“Roderich,” Gilbert questioned suddenly, his mouth full of bread and mayonnaise, “do you ever miss Austria?”

Roderich felt a bit taken aback by the question, even though it wasn’t out of the ordinary by any means. “Um. Well, yes, sometimes. Although I’ve become accustomed to life here, having been in Munich for several years now.”

“Don’t you have family back in Austria?”

“Just my mother.”

“And your father?”

“He passed away. Maybe six years ago, now.”

“Sorry about that,” Gilbert coughed a bit, fidgeting with the bottle cap from his soda. “But that’s all the family you have?”

Roderich smiled a bit uncomfortably, used to the question but still finding it hard to answer. “Well, no. Most of my parents’ family didn’t…they passed away…”

“Ohhh, Holocaust, gotcha,” Gilbert shuddered a bit, feeling sorry to have even brought it up. “Again, sorry. Pretty sure our grandfather was an SS guy. He moved to Argentina after the war.”

“It’s fine, I would never hold you personally responsible.”

“So family means a lot to you, then.”

“I suppose it does,” Roderich said as he picked up a napkin, as he was continually shocked by Gilbert’s pensive nature at the moment. “Well, what about you? I’ve never heard much about your family. Ludwig never talks about it.”

Gilbert fell silent for a few seconds, just as he was about to pick up the knife to slather on some more mayo. His silence didn’t go unnoticed, and Roderich felt the need to quickly jump in.

“I’m sorry, have I said something…maybe, there’s a reason Ludwig doesn’t talk about…”

“Ludwig doesn’t remember anything,” Gilbert answered harshly, his voice seeming oddly far away as his eyes appeared cloudy. “And that’s for the better.”

Roderich opened his mouth to say something, but nothing good came to his mind. He decided to follow Gilbert’s lead in ending the conversation, as he brought his teacup to his lips once more.

_Day 15_

Roderich was just about to stroll into his apartment, ready to take off his shoes and unwind on the couch with a nice cup of tea and a magazine, when the door across from him whooshed open with a flush of stale air, and his Hungarian neighbor appeared lazily in the frame. “Roderich, care for a cup of coffee? It’s been a bit since we’ve sat down together.”

An uneasy flash towards his own door instantly told Erzse what he was thinking. “He’s not going to get anywhere. He knows what will happen.”

Well, he couldn’t argue with that. He smiled broadly at Erzse, following her into the mess she lived in and trying not to crinkle his nose too much at the plates piling up in the kitchen sink. “I’ll just have water, thank you. I’m trying to avoid caffeine after working hours.”

Erzse shook her head at him playfully while fetching his drink, making sure to choose the cleanest looking glass in her cabinet. “So how is life? How has your roommate been treating you?”

Roderich rolled his eyes as he sank into the sofa slowly, taking his glasses off to clean them with brisk speed. “He’s not so bad anymore. I think I’ve gotten used to his antics. He complains plenty and he has some gross habits, but he could be much worse.”

The Hungarian woman tried to hide her smile behind her coffee cup, but it was too wide for the radius of the mug. “It almost sounds like you enjoy his presence.”

Roderich sputtered out a bit of nonsense as he took the water glass from her with appreciation. “Why on earth would you assume that?! I said I tolerate him, not that I _value_ him.”

“He’s curious about you, you know. He went snooping through your bedroom.”

“He what?!”

Erzse wiped at the corner of her mouth as she struggled to control a sweet-sounding giggle. “He came over a few days ago. Claimed he was bored or something, and wanted someone to talk to, and he wants to work out with me, which is all fine…but he just kept asking me questions. About you, about me, why I was here. He seemed a little obsessed.”

“What was he doing in my bedroom?!”

“He just asked about the family photos you have, that’s all. He wanted to know who the people were, why they were important to you.”

Roderich held his tongue at the thoughts floating through his mind. “Well, maybe going to the gym will be good for him. He has a lot of energy, and he’s always fidgeting.”

“Roderich,” Erzse started knowingly, “what’s going to happen when the 90 days are up?”

Suddenly Roderich found that he was the one fidgeting. “I don’t know if I have an answer to that.”

Erzse smiled again, this time a fair bit smaller, and set her cup down onto her paint-splotched coffee table. “I did have a reason for inviting you over. My father is coming to visit me this weekend, in a surprise twist of events. Would you be so inclined to join us for dinner? I know with Gilbert, but maybe Ludwig…”

Roderich nodded introspectively, making a mental note to send his friend a text. “Yes, I’ll ask him if he could come over to watch him. I think he’d like to spend more time with his brother anyway.”

_Day 16_

“I heard you went over to Erzse’s,” Roderich brought up casually at dinner, his fork and knife dancing in perfect symphony to chop up a chicken breast.

Gilbert, meanwhile, had two green beans sticking out of his mouth, in an attempt to look like a walrus. At Roderich’s prying statement, he chewed them up quickly, replying, “Oh great, so now she’s tattling on me?”

“I don’t care that you did, and neither does she. Frankly all she does during the day is lock herself in a sea of fumes from acrylic paint, so it was probably a welcome reprise. She even said you were going to start working out together.”

“I haven’t been to the gym regularly in years, so she’s probably gonna kick my ass.”

“I think it’s nice,” Roderich smiled a bit, messing with the flower arrangement on the table as it suddenly wasn’t to his liking.

“Gee, thanks, _Mutti,_ I definitely needed your opinion.”

“That reminds me, Gilbert, tomorrow Erzse and I are going out to dinner, so Ludwig’s going to come over for a bit to watch you.”

Gilbert couldn’t tell what made him angrier: the fact that he needed a babysitter, or that Roderich and Erzse were wining and dining. “Uh huh…so, you’ve got a date with the warrior goddess?”

Roderich frowned back at him and swirled his fork in the air. “I don’t know if I would call it that. Her father’s in town and she wants us to meet.”

“Mhm,” the German replied as he looked back at Roderich, watching his face light up with the glow of innocent confusion.

“And another thing, Gilbert,” Roderich continued, “don’t go into my bedroom again.”

“Damnit, she did tell on me!”

_Day 17_

Ludwig was 15 minutes early, living up to his national stereotype well. He and Roderich exchanged pleasantries while Gilbert sulked on the sofa, pretending to watch the TV even though its volume was quite low. He vaguely heard Roderich call goodbye to him, saying he would be home within a few hours, but he feigned as though he hadn’t heard it, and that the commercial for fertilizer was far more engaging.

Once the door had been shut and Ludwig had hung his coat on the rack, he joined his older brother on the sofa, squinting to see the words on the TV. “This looks a bit boring,” he stated matter-of-factly, and Gilbert rolled his eyes in response.

“No shit,” he replied curtly, grabbing the remote with a loose wrist to flip through the channels with disinterest. “What’s up with you, man?”

“Not much interesting, sorry to say. Are you doing alright?”

“Fine, fine. Say, I’m sure you have homework to get to.”

“You do know me well, don’t you brother…” Ludwig laughed a little, standing upright to go make a place for himself at the table.

“If you’re gonna be working, can I use your phone?” Sensing his sudden hesitation, Gilbert added, “What, it’s not like I’m gonna get heroin delivered to Roderich’s door or something. I just wanna connect to the outside world again. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve talked to Antonio and Francis?”

Ludwig seemed to sympathize with him at that, handing over his phone with only a touch of trepidation. While Ludwig set to work on some accounting problems, Gilbert browsed through Facebook, messaging his best friends to let them know he was alright. Receiving no immediate response, he recalled that it was a Saturday night; they were probably out at the bar already, prepping for a long night out. He used to join them every week, laughing through countless shots of various liquors and pints upon pints of beer, usually ending the night by shooting up with some strangers he had met in a club. Now he sat in a living room that wasn’t even his, the sound of his baby brother scratching a pencil across the paper and the hum of the TV being the only things to suggest life was still moving.

_Day 18_

Both Roderich and Gilbert seemed more tired than usual that morning: Roderich from having been out for a fair chunk of the night, and Gilbert from having recurrent nightmares that disturbed him throughout the night. They ate yogurt and muesli in relative silence, the crashing of spoons into the sides of bowls being the only symphony that made music. Gilbert was curious about Roderich’s dinner date, but not curious enough to give in to his own pathetic will.

“I have to go to the grocery store,” Roderich told him while busying his hands washing the dishes, intently observing the mountains of soap that formed instantaneously. “Are you coming along?”

Gilbert remained a bit sluggish from his position at the table, tapping his fingers to some unknown rhythm. “I don’t think so.”

Roderich looked away from his chore to glance at the man in concern. “What’s the matter?”

“Just didn’t sleep well.”

“If something’s wrong, you can always talk to m—“

“Nobody asked for your help, _prinzessin_ ,” Gilbert said dismissively, standing finally to retreat back to his lair. Roderich was irritated by the response, but even more he felt a bit disappointed—it almost felt like they were starting to break down some of the walls that came between them, but now they were practically back to where they started all over again.

_Day 19_

It was so loud this time that Roderich had practically jolted from the bed, suddenly awake after having just drifted off to sleep. He pulled the covers off as his instinct was to run and check on Gilbert, but he remembered how little he seemed to get out of him when he did, and how their relationship seemed a bit sour as of late, and he decided instead to cautiously head over. He creeped out quietly, stopping just before the spare room door, to listen: he heard Gilbert, obviously riled up, breathing heavily, near hyperventilation. After another thirty seconds or so, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself, sighed out heavily, and muttered lightly, “Just go away already,” before crashing back against the sheets.

Roderich so desperately wanted to ask him what was going on—why he was having all these nightmares, what was going through his mind—but he wasn’t sure if Gilbert was trusting of him just yet. It was this that made him realize he was going to have to work harder at getting the man to see him as less of a threat, and more of someone who genuinely cared—because, ever surprisingly, Roderich found that he did.

_Day 20_

“So tell me, why are we at the fucking mall again?”

Roderich raised his eyebrows at the impatient-looking German, who had his hands tightly forced into his pockets. “I just wanted to go clothes shopping, that’s all.”

“Don’t you have enough shirts with fucking lacy ruffles and long coats already?”

“It’s always nice to look,” Roderich coughed a bit, feeling a weird tickle in his throat that his morning tea hadn’t been able to cure. Nevertheless, he watched Gilbert shake his head in frustration and put on the act that he was really here for himself by going into a few clothing stores, pretending to be interested in the winter jackets. In reality, after having questioned Ludwig mercilessly on Gilbert’s interests, he had surmised a plan into cheering him up and perhaps winning his trust as well.

As Gilbert complained about sore feet, Roderich was unknowingly leading them towards the video game store, hoping his target would be well in sight for Gilbert to see it and immediately run for it. Luckily, he was spot on.

“Holy shit, look at that! The Nintendo Switch! Aw fuck, I know nobody plays with these anymore, but I still think they’re cool,” he mused like a giddy child, grabbing the tester device and smashing the buttons through a trial version of some game.

“I don’t play video games,” Roderich told him aloofly, still trying to keep up the act.

“Man, I’ve gotta broken DS somewhere at home. I mashed those buttons ‘til they went to heaven. When I was super bored or lonely or high or all of the above I would just play for hours.”

“Well, do you like this one? Does it have good games?”

“Yeah, good enough, you know.”

“Do you want it?”

Gilbert scoffed a bit, still unaware of what Roderich was implying. “I mean, yeah, duh.”

“Let’s get it for you, then.”

Gilbert finally looked up from the wildly absorbing screen to shoot a confused face at his Austrian companion. “Um, what?”

“You want it, right? I’ll just buy it for you.”

What Roderich was expecting to turn into joy and happiness suddenly dissolved into apparent irritation. “You can’t…you can’t buy this for me, Roderich. What are you talking about?”

“I’m confused…didn’t you want this one?”

“Yeah, but it’s fuckin’ expensive!”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s just money.”

At that Gilbert burst out into a fit of laughter laced with anger and shame, and his piercing blue eyes seemed to turn even colder. “It’s just money. It’s just money! Right, that’s right, sorry, I forgot for just a second how you don’t live in reality and instead you sit on a throne in your fucking kingdom of privilege.”

People around them were staring, so Roderich attempted to bring Gilbert’s anger down to an appropriate level by leaning in and whispering, “Why are you being like this? Why can’t you just be grateful and accept the gift?”

“Because I don’t want your fucking gifts, you _fickfehler_! I’m not your god damned charity case!” Red to the ears and ready to grab Roderich by the collar and throw him to the ground, Gilbert turned on his heels and stomped towards the exit, his military boots crunching under the strain of his fast-moving feet. He knew Roderich, equally embarrassed and upset, was tailing close behind him, but it wasn’t like he could run away. Where would he even go? Back to heroin? He sure wanted it right about now. It would solve all his problems. He could probably still hit up his dealer, if he got his phone back…but that was at Ludwig’s. And Ludwig was his sole motivation at this point. Instead, he played every curse word he knew on a loop in his mind as he stormed out to the bus stop, getting on the one nearest to Roderich’s house. He made a distinct turn to sit by someone in the area reserved for pregnant women and handicapped people, leaving Roderich to stand farther in the back where there was room. Handicapped people be damned, he decided. He was a drug addict, that was his handicap.

Roderich watched him cautiously, his chest burning with the uncomfortable feelings of knowing something had gone very wrong, but not knowing why or how to fix it. He was at least grateful that Gilbert didn’t attempt to run away—the German was now smart enough to realize he had nowhere left to run.

Once they reached Roderich’s apartment Gilbert climbed the stairs two at a time, leaving Roderich to take the elevator by himself. They met up at the front door, Gilbert’s face fixed in a mean glare as he stared down the hallway. Roderich uneasily opened the door, and as soon as it shut behind him he wasted no time in confronting the angry German. “What on earth was that all about?”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Gilbert hissed, heading out onto the balcony to light up a cigarette.

Roderich followed him to the balcony door, despite the errant stench of smoke. “Well, you live with me, you have to talk to me.”

“Fuck you! I didn’t ask to live with you! You can’t keep forcing me into shit against my will like this!”

“I just wanted to do something nice for you, to cheer you up! I don’t understand why you’re angry!”

Gilbert blew a cloud of smoke in the direction of the wind before turning to stab one of his thin fingers aggressively into Roderich’s chest. “I hate people like you. You’ve never even worked a day in your damn life. Everything’s been handed to you. Jesus Christ, you don’t even work now! You throw around money like the aristocratic pig you are. And, and I hate,” he paused to take another drag of his cigarette, “this little mission you’re on. You’re like a fucking religious nut who goes to South America to spread the word of God and underground plumbing to the poor people of the mountains. Damn savior complex ass motherfucker. You think you can save me, and that’s what gets you off. Well, guess the fuck what? I’m long past being saved! So just give up on me like everyone else, you little, you, you fuck!” He stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray and pushed past Roderich easily, as the Austrian’s body had practically turned to grass in the wind, before slamming the spare room door shut.

For a few moments Roderich stood and let the wind blow past him, unsure of what his next steps, literally and figuratively, should be. His throat hurt more after yelling, and now he felt his head spinning, so he decided that at least for the moment it would be a good idea to get some rest, and hope that things would clear up by the morning.

_Day 21_

Although it was akin to walking through No Man’s Land, Gilbert knew he couldn’t stay holed up in his room forever. He had physical needs, after all, most important of them the urge to smoke. He was able to move undetected the night before, when he noticed Roderich go to bed really early, but he knew that by the morning things would have to be addressed as Roderich had class and Gilbert couldn’t hold his bladder the entire day.

He crept about the apartment quietly, going out to smoke, taking a quick shower, and finally heading to the table for breakfast. Roderich, however, was nowhere to be seen; this was alarming, as Gilbert was sure he hadn’t heard him leave, and the Austrian was never late for anything. Perhaps Roderich was more rattled by their fight than he had imagined.

He ate rather quickly, frequently whipping his head around to check if Roderich was about to walk down the hall, but his door remained tightly shut. Once he had finished he toed down the hallway, expecting the door to crash open onto his face, but he was met with no resistance; all he could hear was something that sounded like a small window fan. Unable to contain his curiosity, he poked his head in to find Roderich sprawled out in bed, a humidifier humming softly near him, a box of cough medicine on the bedside table. He was snoring a bit through his sleep, and his breaths sounded a bit wheezy. “Ah, so the _prinzessin_ has lost control of the kingdom,” Gilbert whispered to himself with a soft bit of laughter.

Turning around to retreat back into the living room, Gilbert crashed on the sofa and laid his hands behind his head. God, he was still so angry. That little Austrian prick, who had never gone hungry a day in his life, thought he could just buy Gilbert’s devotion? He hated rich people. He hated this place, this apartment, which was bigger than anywhere else he had ever lived. He remembered growing up in the East in the shitty Soviet-era buildings, never taller than five floors due to fire code restrictions, but still equipped with faulty refrigerators that could blow at any moment. He was proud when Ludwig got his own apartment, one that was decently nice. He had never been able to give Ludwig much more than a roof over his head. It was good that he lived in a dormitory for most of his secondary school years.

He blinked rapidly, trying to get the past out of his mind. It didn’t matter now. What mattered was that Roderich was annoying and entitled. Irregardless, he didn’t look like he was in good shape. Gilbert could instantly tell that he was the type of person who reacted harshly to minor illnesses and small doses of medicine, based on his near unconscious state at just a simple amount of cough medicine. As much as he was angry at the bastard, he felt some hidden instinct of himself—probably left over from years of caring for Ludwig—feel the need to at least be a decent human and try and make sure the guy wasn’t too miserable.

A little while later he brought in a steaming hot kettle of water with a mug and some tea bags, placing it delicately at the side of the sleeping Austrian. He left a bit of fruit as well, knowing he would need to eat eventually. He heard Roderich stir a bit later, moving the tea kettle and shuffling into his bathroom, coughing quite loudly as well. He rolled his eyes, but part of him was glad to hear Roderich alive. He told that part to be quiet.

_Day 22_

Roderich did actually leave his room that morning, despite his horrible coughing fits. He noticed Gilbert sitting at the table and froze a bit, but the German pretended not to notice his presence and carried on drinking a cup of coffee.

“I boiled some water,” he said off-handedly, standing to make his retreat.

Roderich looked at him gratefully, which made Gilbert’s stomach turn uneasily. “Thank you, Gil—“

“Yeah, whatever,” he cut Roderich off, closing the door firmly behind him.

Roderich frowned a bit, knowing that he was clearly still angry, but it seemed like he wasn’t done with him forever. It was comforting, he acknowledged, as he choked down another series of coughs.

_Day 23_

By the third day Roderich’s coughing had improved a good amount, but he still didn’t feel well enough to attend to much. He was furious with himself for having to miss his classes, but he would’ve felt horrible giving anyone else his cold, no matter that it was at least a minor one. For that reason too he tried to isolate himself from Gilbert—which wasn’t exactly hard, as the German wasn’t keen to be in his presence—but it felt strange and uncomfortable to him.

Somewhere along the line, he must have gotten really used to living with someone. He hadn’t really been in that situation since gymnasium, since he shared a room with Ludwig. It was nice to have someone else around, even if they weren’t talking or doing anything. He saw Ludwig somewhat as the brother he had never had. Then what was Gilbert to him? By extension that must have also made him feel like a brother, but to Roderich it felt weird to call him that. He wasn’t like Ludwig. He didn’t make him feel the same way. With Ludwig he felt comfort, security, a sense of safety. With Gilbert it was the opposite—he felt a bit uneasy, a sense of adrenaline, something unknown, which normally he would’ve hated—and for some reason, he actually liked it. He was never one for spontaneity, but now it was almost…oh, what was the word…enthralling? And Gilbert was a bit enthralling. The German man had such a negative view of himself, that he wasn’t smart, that he wasn’t worth anyone’s time…but Roderich found him interesting, and almost…alluring? Oh, God, it must be the medicine talking, he decided quickly, and he covered his face with a pillow to try and block out the shame.

_Day 24_

Roderich did go to the synagogue that morning, which told Gilbert that he probably felt well enough to have a real conversation again. At some point he had found a rubber band in the kitchen and kept snapping it against his wrist, enjoying the slight hiss of pain it gave off—initially he started doing it to keep track of his drug cravings, but now he was doing it as a way to count the time, and while he snapped it endlessly he tried to think of what he was going to say to that plucky Austrian, now that his anger had been significantly dialed down.

Now that he was thinking a bit rationally again, he had to admit that his reaction must have come off as a bit of a shock to Roderich. Money was kind of a sensitive subject to him. He accepted it from others with subdued shame, and he could rarely set his pride aside for long enough to ask for it. It was such a problem with heroin; it was so expensive, and especially towards the end, he always seemed to be broke. It really hit a breaking point once he was evicted and had to move in with Ludwig, who handed him money even though he knew what it was going to be used for. God, it made him sick just thinking about it. How could he use his little brother?

The front door rattled open a bit and Roderich waddled inside, a few coughs staggering out of his mouth. He glanced at Gilbert inquisitively, wondering if he could read the man’s mood, but all that glanced back at him was the normal frown and dead-set eyes.

They looked at each other in silence for a few more moments, neither knowing how to start. Roderich took his shoes off and crossed over to the sofa to sit opposite Gilbert, and the silence remained for a bit longer, until Gilbert decided to be the one to break it:

“So, how was Jew Church?”

Roderich instantly sighed, feeling a tension headache coming on. “You’re nothing if not crude, aren’t you, Gilbert?”

“Just making conversation.”

Roderich fumbled nervously with an unsightly wrinkle in the front of his coat, his long, nimble fingers catching Gilbert’s attention. “I’m still a bit sick, so I hope I don’t pass it on to you…”

“You probably will. My immune system’s jacked, remember? Cause, I do drugs?”

“Did drugs. That’s the important part.”

“Yeah, wish it was still in the present tense,” he muttered sarcastically.

Roderich figured their conversation was going to continue in this hopelessly circular manner unless he attacked the issue head on, so he decided to do just that. “Gilbert. I’m…I’m sorry, about a few days ago, that I upset you. It wasn’t my intention, I really hope you understand that. I just, well, I feel horrible, because, you’re right, you know. It must be awful having to be cooped up here with really nothing to do. And I feel like…I don’t know how to say this, without just saying it, but I want you to trust me, I guess. And I feel like you don’t, which is what my intentions were…”

Gilbert knew he was being sincere, but he couldn’t help but choke back a laugh. “So you thought you could buy my trust?”

“I guess…I don’t know…”

He suddenly itched for a cigarette, but he knew this wasn’t exactly the best time. And really, Roderich looked so pitiful, he almost felt a bit of guilt for tormenting him with his anger. Sighing heavily, he leaned back into the sofa and started, “We were always very, very poor. When Ludwig and I lived with our father, once we were moved to our grandfather’s, once it was just me and him…there was just never much money. I worked three jobs when you guys started gymnasium…and for the first time in mine and Ludwig’s lives, we had some money. But then, I got addicted to drugs, and you know how that goes.”

He paused for a second to glance at Roderich’s reaction, and saw his face poised in a stoic manner, clearly intent on listening. “You want me to trust you. I understand that. In all honesty, I trust you a fair amount more than you give yourself credit for. You’re actually trying to help me. Even though I’m annoying as hell. But how am I supposed to trust you when you can’t trust me? I know the situation is different, that it’s not in my favor, but you haven’t even given me a chance to prove myself.”

Roderich scratched the side of his head absentmindedly, tapping his fingers against the cushions. “Hm. I suppose you have a point. But you know, it just doesn’t alleviate my concern…how are you supposed to assure me that you’re not going to go back to drugs?”

“Besides the fact that you’ve basically cut off my access by taking away my phone? All my contacts are locked at Ludwig’s place.”

“Well, maybe I have an idea,” Roderich mused suddenly, “what if, what if you got a job? Because then, you would have something stable to return to once this is over, and you would be making and saving money, and you could get out of the house!”

Gilbert smiled a bit, the idea sounding a bit appealing. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I’m kinda diggin’ it. I mean, working sucks ass, but we all have to join the real world someday. Wow, I can’t even remember when I had a stable job…”

“But, that should be the caveat. You can’t be out late at night. That way, I’ll know you’re not getting into trouble.”

“That’s fair,” Gilbert shrugged, yawning a bit as he leaned up to stretch his arms. “I guess I’ll have to start looking, then. By the way, _prinzessin,_ you feelin’ any better?”

“Enough with the _prinzessin_ , and I feel decent now. Thank you for caring for me. I am a bit useless when I am sick.”

“Damn, you must be sick all the time.”

“Gilbert!”

Things felt normal again, and both Roderich and Gilbert felt relieved, although neither could explain why.

_Day 25_

Gilbert let the weights dramatically fall from his hands as he panted heavily, running a hand through his sweaty strands of hair. “Jesus, I thought this would be easier.”

Erzse shook his head at him, secretly pleased that she was benching more weight than him, although keeping that fact to herself. “Nobody goes straight from retirement back to the world championships.”

Gilbert glared at the warrior goddess, who was squatting 70 like it was no big deal, the sweat collecting on her cheeks shining like well-applied makeup. “Hell, man. Anyway, how was your date last week?”

“What date? Oh, do you mean with my father and Roderich?”

“What else could I possibly mean?”

She laughed at him before racking her weights, pushing some flippant strands of hair out of her eyes. “You’re ridiculously bad at hiding your jealousy, you know.”

“What are you talking about?”

She laughed some more, making Gilbert even more irritated than he already had been. “When’s the last time you were in a relationship, Gilbert?”

Sitting down on one of the weight benches, Gilbert huffed childishly. “Uh, I don’t even think I’ve ever been in a relationship.”

“You don’t think?”

“I don’t know if you call casual sex for drugs a relationship. Last I checked, you didn’t.”

“But you’ve crushed on people before?”

“Please. Heroin was my only sweetheart,” he smiled bitterly, making room as Erzse decided to sit next to him. “I mean sure, but nothing that ever really manifested. But what does this have to do with anything?”

“Because you think we’re in some sort of competition together, but we’re really not.”

“Care to elaborate, Hungarian?”

“Roderich and I are just friends,” she stated simply, undoing her hair from its bun to begin casually braiding it, “and that’s all we’ll ever be.”

Gilbert bit the side of his lip a little, aware that his eyes were nearly popping out of his head. “Um, okay? That’s lovely.”

“You can just say that you like him, you know. You don’t have to worry about me judging you, or something.”

Spluttering out complete nonsense for a few moments, Gilbert stomped his foot on the ground and glared at her as hard as he could manage. “What the hell? I don’t like him like…I don’t have a crush on him. Guy’s annoying as shit, why would I want to sleep with him? And since when have I been trusting you?”

“You don’t have to trust me,” Erzse lulled softly, standing once more to head over to the treadmill section, “that’s your choice, after all. But all I’m saying is that if you want something, you’re going to have to be a little more vocal about it. Not everyone can read signs like me.”

Gilbert was sure the stare he was sending her way was potentially lethal, but she was ignoring him, turning up the incline on the machine. He wanted to be angry, to curse and yell at her, any sort of normal reaction he would have, but he swallowed it all and returned to work at the squat rack. There was work to be done, and he wasn’t going to waste his time with the warrior goddess’ lies.

_Day 26_

During one particular afternoon smoke break, Gilbert found himself going over Erzse’s words once more. They played in some sort of sinister loop in his head, and for once it was louder than the other track that just shouted ‘heroin’ for 24 hours straight.

She didn’t know what she was talking about. Roderich was right about those paint fumes getting to her head. He did not _like_ Roderich. He could just barely deal with living with him, let alone finding him anything else than mildly tolerable. He shook his head rapidly, trying to block out any impending thoughts of his Austrian cohort.

Yes, he was attracted to guys, and the Hungarian was keen to pick up on that. And it wasn’t as if Roderich was unattractive or disinteresting…so much for trying not to think about it, he conceded swiftly, sucking in the final drag of his smoke before heading back inside. The Austrian had been playing the piano calmly, his posture poised and elegant, but he suddenly ceased his playing once Gilbert had re-entered the room, moving to instead shuffle his disorganized notes.

“Why’d ya stop?”

Roderich glanced over at him as if he had just told some erroneous lie. “I didn’t just stop, I had to reorganize.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“Well, I’ll start telling my secrets when you start telling yours.”

The statement, although spoken lightly, spooked Gilbert a bit, and his lower lip quivered as he demanded, “What did Erzse tell you?”

Roderich was taken aback, and he adjusted his glasses on his nose nervously. “Uh, nothing? What are you talking about?”

Noting the Austrian’s genuinely confused expression, Gilbert backed down a bit, scratching his head and softening his look. “I don’t know, man. My mind keeps screaming at me for heroin. I don’t make any sense.” He cringed inwardly as he moved to duck back into his bedroom, cursing himself for his sensitive reaction, and cursing Erzse for making him like this in the first place.

_Day 27_

Ludwig’s afternoon class had been cancelled that Tuesday, so he decided to take his older brother out to lunch. While Roderich was still in class, the two traveled over to a small pizza joint which boasted a pizza topped in several kinds of meat, the German brothers’ favorite.

As they waited for the pizza to be made, Gilbert smoked idly and picked at the lemon the waitress had put in his Coke, feeling unfocused and tired. He hadn’t slept well the night before, plagued by more of the nightmares. The heroin had always helped make them go away for a bit, or at least dull the memories, but now that he was officially ‘getting clean’ there wasn’t anything to stop them from coming. He knew every time he got one that Roderich woke up, and he was sure that the nosy little Austrian wanted to know all about it, but he wasn’t in any sort of mood to open up. He never had been, after all.

“Are you alright, _bruder_?” Ludwig questioned, concern pooling in his baby blue eyes.

Gilbert tapped the ashes out of his cigarette and glanced distantly at some flower bushes. “Fine, just not sleeping so well. I miss drugs.”

Ludwig sighed knowingly, readjusting his silverware in an expression of uncertainty. “Yes, I imagine. Do you think once you’ve left Roderich’s that you’ll be able to stay clean?”

Gilbert rested his forehead on one of his outstretched palms and clenched his eyes shut tightly. “I don’t know, Luddy.”

The silence that fell over them wasn’t comforting in the slightest. Gilbert, blowing out clouds of smoke to try and calm his nerves, forced a tired laugh. “I’m not good at talking about my feelings.”

Ludwig smiled alongside him, saying, “Neither of us are. It’s in our blood, I think. But Roderich is. You should try talking to him.”

“Speaking of _die prinzessin_ ,” Gilbert smirked while stubbing out his cigarette, “did he ever have a girlie of his own while you two were in gymnasium?”

“A girlfriend? No, I don’t think so…well, there was someone, but…”

Gilbert couldn’t fathom why he felt his stomach suddenly drop rapidly, even as the pizza was placed piping hot in front of them. Ludwig was quick to thank the waitress and begin digging in, even as Gilbert sat frozen in time, barely acknowledging their lunch. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Gilbert snapped out of it for a few seconds to feign interest in the food, grabbing a slice for himself as he watched Ludwig begin to cut his up precisely with a fork and knife. “Um, what do you mean, there was someone?”

“Someone what?”

“Roderich, Ludwig. With Roderich.”

“Oh, right. Well, I just, I’m not sure if it’s my place to…”

“Damnit, Ludwig, you can’t start a story and then end without finishing it!” Gilbert yelled at his younger brother, feeling a bit self-conscious as he noticed other people staring.

“Okay, okay, goodness. Well, it was another boy.”

His stomach dropped once more, and it suddenly felt extremely difficult to eat the pizza, no matter how delicious it was. “A boy? So he’s gay or something?”

“Don’t tell him I told you,” Ludwig pleaded with him gently, even going as far to look around the outside seating area to make sure no one had heard. “I don’t know if he’s comfortable with people knowing.”

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t,” Gilbert shrugged, trying his best to not seem overly interested, as he was. “So, uh, he dated a guy?”

“It really didn’t last very long. Only a few months, if I remember right. They didn’t fit well together.” The blond man laughed abruptly, shaking his head at the noise. “It was quite funny, really, because we always struggled to understand each other when we all hung out. Since Roderich’s Austrian, and Sebastian is Swiss, our German all sounded so different, we would have to talk so slowly just to get our points across…”

“Sebastian,” Gilbert rolled the name off his tongue like it was poison, his eyes turning shifty as he lifted his Coke to his lips. “Well, doesn’t he know I’m gay too? Why would he be afraid to let me know?”

“Maybe he doesn’t realize you are.”

Oddly, in Gilbert’s mind, the pizza didn’t taste the same that day.

 _Day 28_                                                                                                       

“Hey, check this out,” Gilbert wasted no time in shoving the newspaper in Roderich’s face as soon as he walked through the door, bouncing up and down like a child on Christmas.

“Gilbert, please,” Roderich shoved his arm away, fixing the position of his glasses, “let me at least set my things down first. What are you so excited about?”

“I found a job! Well, you know, I didn’t get hired yet or anything, clearly, but I think I wanna apply!”

Roderich returned the pleasant smile plastered on Gilbert’s face, taking the paper from him to look it over. “Which one?”

“This one. See, it’s a guy whose first language isn’t German, setting up some kinda office here, and it wants a secretary, which I know is usually a lady’s job, but this is the 21st century and I have a nice ass so I’m sure I’ll suffice.”

Ignoring the nature of his last comment, Roderich began to rummage through his pockets, eventually pulling out his phone. “Well here, give them a call.”

Gilbert snatched the phone from the Austrian’s hands and began to dial the numbers, and Roderich watched him in mild amusement as he moved to start the tea kettle.

After a few rings, a shaky voice answered in English, “H-how can I help you? I mean, uh, Braginsky Suppliers, how can I help…uh, oh, I’m sorry…”

“Hey!” Gilbert practically yelled into the phone, his crude German accent causing Roderich to laugh, “I saw that you are hiring for a job, so I would like to apply!”

“Oh, you want to come w-w-work here?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay, one moment…” the voice trailed off, and Gilbert tapped his foot against the floor as he heard people speaking in the background. “Ah, okay, congratulations, when can you start?”

“What? But you did not even ask me if I am qualified!”

“Oh, uh, well…are you qualified?”

“Well, yes.”

“Great! Can you come in next week, starting Monday?”

“Well, sure, but—“

“See you then! Good day!”

Once the line had gone dead, Gilbert looked up at Roderich in confusion, his lip curling in as the Austrian was rifling through his tea cabinet. “Well, I got the job.”

“What? But you hardly said anything.”

“I know…”

Roderich shrugged a bit and walked over to him, extending his hand in a manner of politeness. “Well, congratulations.”

“Dude, we’ve been living together for almost a fucking month and you’re trying to shake my hand?”

Roderich was taken aback, unsure as to why this was inappropriate behavior, but any chance to ask why was hindered once the German knocked him to the floor in a powerful embrace, laughing at his flustered face. “I think we’re at least on the hugging level by now!”

“Gilbert, you’re wrinkling my clothes!” he complained uselessly, although he couldn’t be bothered to disguise his laughter, finding his own arms encircling around Gilbert’s back like they had belonged there his entire life.

“Buy some new ones, you rich son of a bitch!” he kept laughing, rolling Roderich against the floor despite his cries to be let go. He hadn’t laughed like this in years, and he wasn’t about to let go of the cause of that laughter anytime soon.

_Day 29_

Once Roderich had finished with his classes for the day he had afternoon tea with Erzse, the only person he truly felt comfortable bingeing on cakes and pastries with. She had a splotch of orange paint above her right ear, and a new collection of mineral water bottles had piled up near the balcony, but other than that she looked much the same.

“I think he likes being able to work out frequently. It gives him something to do, something to keep his mind off the drugs,” she commented about Gilbert with a light smile, hastily reaching for another biscuit.

“I think so too. He’s looking a lot better, too, thankfully. It was scary to see him in the beginning…he was a little thin and very pale. I don’t really think he was eating well at all. Probably using every last euro on heroin,” Roderich looked into his cup in deep reflection. He sighed, almost a bit frustrated, and closed his eyes tiredly. “I don’t know when this started happening, but somewhere along the line I really started to care about him. I don’t want to see him fail.”

Erzse looked over at her friend, who appeared more somber now than he had in the whole time they had known each other. “He just needs someone like you who believes in him.”

“Yeah,” Roderich replied distantly, wiping a few stray crumbs from his jacket. “Well, hopefully he won’t be too mad about tomorrow. I have to leave him by himself nearly the whole day since after classes I have to go pick up Basch from the train station, and he wants to show me his new place and go out to dinner.”

“He’s coming back to town?”

“For a little bit. He’s helping his father with organizing the symphony’s latest concert. He’s convinced I’m going to get a spot, but I don’t think I’m good enough yet.”

“Has Gilbert met him?”

Roderich shook his head, making another stack of biscuits in his hand. “I don’t know if they would get along. And Gilbert’s very reluctant to speak a more refined German, anyway. He would probably just dismiss Basch’s words as nonsense and refuse to speak to him.”

“And you don’t know how he would feel about the fact that Basch is still pining over you.”

Roderich felt himself turn red at Erzse’s words, even though she smiled mischievously across the table. “Oh, that was years ago now, Erzse. And besides, why would Gilbert care?”

Erzse laughed in his face, standing up to cross over to the window. “My goodness, Roderich, your obliviousness knows no bounds.”

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter. You know you’ll have to introduce them eventually, right?”

“Yes, but that day will come when it comes,” Roderich admitted coolly, his head still spinning around Erzse’s accusations wistfully, unable to let go of how she might have known more than she was letting off.

_Day 30_

“I’m sorry Gilbert, but I’ll be back late tonight, so you’ll have to manage dinner on your own,” Roderich told him while hurriedly putting items in his bag, the fear of being late for school always prevalent in his mind.

“Aw, hell. I’m so bored without you here,” Gilbert groaned, polishing off a glass of orange juice now accompanied by a frown.

“Well, just think, soon you’ll be working, and you’ll be much less bored.”

“What are you doing tonight, anyway?”

Erzse’s words replayed in Roderich’s head as he zipped his bag closed. “Munich’s Symphony is getting ready to organize a new concert for charity. I have a friend whose father is on the board of directors, and he helps with it too, so he’s come to town in preparation. There’s lots of meetings, technical things, you know.”

“Damn. You gonna play in it, too?”

“I don’t know, I’ll have to audition. It’s coming up in…less than two weeks now.” Glancing at his watch, Roderich smoothed out his unruly hair and threw his bag over his shoulders. “I have to go. Be good.”

“I will, _Mutti_ ,” Gilbert rolled his eyes at him, waving a hand as Roderich stumbled out the front door. He could hear the Austrian going down the steps and continued to listen intently long after the sound had disappeared. He sighed, leaned back against the kitchen chair, and blinked up at the ceiling. Disappointed was one word to describe it, but he tried not to think about it.

\--

Later that evening Roderich and Basch made their way to one of Munich’s nice restaurants for a cordial ‘welcome back’ dinner. The place was expensive, and although both liked to save their money, he knew they would both be fighting over the check later that night, determined to out-nice each other.

Basch looked the same as always: he was slightly shorter than Roderich, with choppy straw-blond hair and a fixed frown, similar to Gilbert’s except less troublesome. He spoke slowly to be understood by other Germans, but still appeared impatient at the waiter’s confusion over his thick accent.

“Don’t think that just because my father is on the board that it means you’re getting a spot in the concert,” he was quick to tell Roderich, taking a swig of his beer afterwards.

“I wouldn’t want that anyway. I’m much too privileged as it is, and I want to work for the things I feel I deserve.”

Basch looked at him in mild shock, almost as if appraising him for illness. “I’ve never heard you speak like that before.”

“Recent events have changed my perspective,” Roderich smiled a bit through a sip of his wine, thinking fondly of Gilbert. He wondered what he was doing.

“Such as?”

“Ah, I suppose I haven’t told you. Do you remember Ludwig?”

“Of course.”

“His older brother…well, he’s staying with me, at my place, to recover from substance abuse. I’m helping him out.”

If Basch was confused before, now he was stunned. “Can you repeat that?”

Roderich shook his head at the man’s confusion, suddenly feeling rather annoyed. “What’s so unusual about it?”

“You have an addict living in your home, amongst your things, and you’re just okay with that?”

“Gilbert is a good person,” Roderich defended, setting his glass down, “he just had some bad things happen to him, and he got on the wrong path.”

“I don’t care what you do in your free time,” Basch glared at him, tapping his nails against the table, “All I’m saying is that you should be careful. Addicts are liars and cheats. He will probably steal from you and manipulate you if you are not paying attention.”

“I’ve heard enough,” Roderich stated decisively, standing from the table. “I’m going to the toilet, so fetch the waiter when I’m gone and order my usual, and once I return no more of this talk.” He walked gracefully yet swiftly away from his Swiss companion, unable to wipe the deep frown from his face or get rid of the bitter taste in his mouth.

\--

It was 9 o’clock already, and Roderich still hadn’t returned. What kind of meeting about an orchestra concert lasted so long? Gilbert was a bit tired, even though he really hadn’t done much; besides working out with Erzse, he watched some bad TV, smoked more than a few cigarettes, and even took a nap. Now it was getting late and he decided that it was perhaps time to eat something. His appetite was so off, even a month after quitting heroin. Sometimes he forgot to eat much for a day or two, too strung out to think about it. He really benefitted from having someone to remind him to eat—someone like Roderich, who sat down and cooked meals with him.

An idea popped into his mind—he himself was always too lazy or unmotivated to fix himself a plate of food, but certainly if he cooked dinner for Roderich, then he would at least feel compelled to eat. He really was a good cook when he wanted to be, as he remembered countless nights of serving burnt garbage to Ludwig until he finally hunkered down and learned how to make things that were edible and tasty, and now he wanted to show Roderich what he was capable of.

He dug around in the kitchen and began peeling potatoes, stirring together a sauce, and placing some frozen schnitzel on a baking tray, as he wasn’t in the mood to quickly defrost any meat and do it from scratch. Soon the kitchen began to smell homely, and Gilbert couldn’t wait to see the look on the Austrian’s face when he came home to the warm, delicious meal.

\--

By the time Roderich finally waltzed through the front door at half past 11, he was tired, a little tipsy, and he felt the need for a long shower. By no means was he expecting to walk in to all the lights on, Gilbert fast asleep at the kitchen table. “Gilbert?” he inquired softly, wondering just how far gone the man was.

The German’s head popped up quickly, his eyes blinking to try and wake himself up with haste. “Ah, you’re back! I made you dinner, see! Well, this is just my empty plate, but yours is in the oven.”

Before he could even bother to tell him that he had already eaten, Gilbert was up and putting on an oven mitt, delivering the plate to the table with finesse. Even though he was more than satisfied from his last meal, glancing at the small mountain of potatoes covered in a light au jus and sizzling schnitzel, he knew there was no way he could say no. “Thank you, Gilbert,” he smiled, hanging up his jacket for the night as he moved to the table.

Gilbert brushed some hair out of his eyes and yawned, looking back to see the time. “Jesus, you got home late. How on earth did your meeting take that long?”

Roderich realized suddenly that he hadn’t exactly specified what he was doing and where he was going, but he had the sense to imagine this wasn’t the right time. “You know, things run late. Drinking, laughing, very little actual work.”

“Now that you mention it, you do kinda smell like Oktoberfest. You get hammered, _prinzessin_?”

“That’s not in my nature. It was a busy bar, that’s all.” As he ate the prepared dinner—which, remarkably, was delicious—he couldn’t help but think of Basch’s words again. Gilbert, a liar? Maybe, but not about things that were important…right? Would Gilbert steal from him? Had he stolen from Ludwig? He just had more questions, and he felt his head begin to pound.

He looked over at his German companion, who was looking at him as well. Roderich always felt that it was hard to look into Gilbert’s eyes—it felt like having a knife dancing against your bare neck, ready to make a fatal slice at any moment—but now, with a bit of alcohol in his system and plenty of thoughts going through his brain, it was a bit easier. Those eyes, light blue, almost foggy in comparison to Ludwig’s, had seen real pain, he was sure of it. He couldn’t imagine what would make one turn to drugs, substances that had the power to instantly take one’s life away, but maybe that’s what Gilbert had wanted. For something to take his life away, even for a little bit, and maybe for forever.

“What are you looking at, _schatz_?” Gilbert whispered in his sleepiness, without receding his own stare.

“I…I don’t know,” the Austrian admitted, suddenly feeling embarrassed, his headache growing worse by the minute. He made quick work of the dinner put in front of him, then stood to place the dish in the sink, for once not concerned about instantly cleaning up. “I’m not feeling well, so I’m going to sleep now.”

Gilbert nodded in response, rubbing his own tired eyes as he stayed seated, not looking back as Roderich was leaving the room.

He was ready to forget everything about the night—Basch’s warning, Gilbert’s stare—when he was instantly compelled to stop in his tracks, his mind fraught with indecision. He turned back to face Gilbert and calmly announced, “Gilbert, I don’t hate you.”

The German craned his neck around to face him, albeit in confusion, at the unorthodox statement. “What?”

“Back in the beginning, when you first moved in, you asked me why I was doing this, and you said I hated your guts. But I don’t. I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

Gilbert felt his heart beat unsteadily, and his mind instantly went to something stupid, thinking he could’ve had a heart murmur from all the drugs he had done. He was, for once in his life, speechless, and he couldn’t seem to form a sentence that truly made sense. After a few seconds, he settled for a plain, “Thank you.”

With that, Roderich turned back and headed into his bedroom, muttering, “Good night,” politely behind him.

At some point, after having been sitting at the table for what felt like an eternity, Gilbert realized it had been a month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes on translation:  
> Blode fotze: stupid cunt. The word cunt is a pretty harsh one in this context (it's not always considered so harsh in certain areas)  
> Saupreiss: It's a Southern German insult for northern Germans. Sau is equivalent to sow (a female pig) and in this context means 'stupid' or 'idiot' and preiss is, well, Prussian.  
> Fickfehler: literally 'fuck error', like it was a mistake that you were born


	2. 31-60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for descriptions of minor past child abuse in this chapter. Please proceed with caution if this content is difficult for you.

_Day 31_

They always started differently, but inevitably, they ended the same. There he was, in that house—a house made of pieces and fragments of other houses he had seen in his life, just the type to be created in a dream—and he was trying to find Ludwig. He was looking in places that didn’t even make sense—the cutlery drawer, under the rug, in the garbage. It didn’t matter, because he never found him. He could never decide if this was a good thing or not.

Gilbert was upstairs now, rifling through piles of belongings left in hallway corners for his little brother, when some dreadful instinct, a serpent crawling up his throat, told him to go into the bathroom. He didn’t even notice the rising steam fading out the door when he walked in, but the smothering heat that enveloped his tiny body—he must’ve been only 11 or 12 years old—was indicative of what lay before him. The bathtub was full of boiling water, the bubbles almost especially menacing, and he sucked in a desperate breath before he heard the slam of the door behind him. He used his last seconds of good air to whimper, “ _Vati_ , no,” but he felt the baby hairs on his neck rise at the uncomfortable feeling of a grimy hand pushing him forward and it was all he remembered before he woke up.

The present day Gilbert, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily, a slight whine lingering on his unsteady lips, shot up in bed like a bullet and grabbed the sheets protectively. He looked all around him, trying to see if anything had changed, if anyone had entered, but he was alone. Glancing anxiously at the door, he muttered a trying, “Roderich?” to see if the Austrian was outside, but no one answered. It appeared he hadn’t woken him this time.

He continued to stagger his breathing carefully, trying to adjust back to reality. His body went flat against the warm mattress, and he brought a stray hand up to wipe away some tears he hadn’t realized had fallen. Mentally, he cursed himself; what, now he was crying over it? It wasn’t such a big deal. It happened a million years ago, the bastard was dead, and Ludwig was safe. As for himself, he was surviving, and that was enough.

_Day 32_

It was another pleasant day, the weather mild and sunny, and so Ludwig had asked if Roderich and Gilbert wanted to join him for lunch outside. They met in one of the less popular parks, less crowded than usual, and combined foods: Roderich had made a pasta salad, while Ludwig brought some jam-filled pastries. Gilbert had, of course, insisted on beer.

“I’m surprised you’ve managed to go so long without drinking,” Ludwig raised an eyebrow at his brother, who was laying down half on the blanket and half in the grass.

“Because Roderich’s a bitch and he only keeps Austrian beer and gross wine in his house,” he complained bitterly, ignoring the swat of Roderich’s hand.

“Be nice. Austrian things are of finer quality than German ones.”

The two German brothers failed to stifle their laughter, and Roderich glared sharply in return.

“But Gilbert, are you looking forward to going to work tomorrow? Even if you don’t seem to know much about it?”

“God, I dunno,” he yawned, stretching like a cat under the sun, “I feel like I’m probably gonna blow it, even though they’re not expecting much, you know.”

“Gilbert, have some faith in yourself,” Roderich said gently, as he began packing up their containers, “you can’t walk into something with such a negative outlook.”

“Whatever, man. Look, I gotta take a piss, so don’t leave without me, alright? And no, I’m not going to ‘run away’, so don’t even bother asking,” Gilbert frowned, groaning a bit as he stood but making his way towards a little restaurant to inquire about the toilet.

As his figure retreated in the distance, Roderich shook his head, looking over at Ludwig in search of answers. “Why is he so unconfident? He seems to believe the only things he’s capable of are bad things.”

“I think he feels that way since he never finished school, and you know, we’re both in university. But I really don’t know why he didn’t finish school…he’s really smart, even if he doesn’t show it. He taught himself English, he’s conversational in Polish and Turkish, he knows so much about history and geography, and he always helps me with difficult accounting problems. I’m not sure what held him back.”

“That’s interesting, I never knew any of that…” Roderich pondered, beginning to fiddle with a piece of grass out of restlessness. He wanted to ask more about Gilbert’s life, wondering if Ludwig might know something that was crucial in getting to understand Gilbert, but before he could said man’s crass voice was back ringing in his ear.

“Fuckin’ guy said I had to pay to piss. That’s a load of shit. It should be illegal to charge for human nature. Let’s get out of here,” he grumbled, and before Roderich had a chance to suggest they talk further, Ludwig was already standing and ready to tug the blanket out from underneath him.

_Day 33_

The office was in kind of a weird part of town, not exactly where one would expect to find it. The area consisted of a few old nondescript buildings, a hair salon that looked to have been out of business for the past four years, an ominous dentist’s office on the third floor of a building without a fire escape, and finally, the building right next to a dirty alley, Braginsky Suppliers. He hoped this Braginsky, whoever he was, was at least tolerable.

He waltzed in all too comfortably for someone who had no idea where he was going, instantly catching the attention of three scrambling men (although, in fairness, one looked to be about 14 at the youngest). “Oh, are you the new secretary?” said one whose voice he recognized from the phone, who had muddy brown hair and a nervous eye twitch.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Well, welcome! I am Toris, and these are my colleagues, Eduard and Raivis. And your name is…?”

“Gilbert.”

“You’re going to love working here,” the one called Eduard mumbled sarcastically, picking up a stack of papers and quickly leaving the room.

Gilbert tried his best to ignore the odd behavior as he twirled a paper bag that contained his lunch, sweetly made by Roderich. “So man, what do you want me to do?”

“It will mostly just be answering the phone, filing papers, sending emails…we are new here in Munich, as you see from all the mess, so we’re just in the stages of organizing now, but none of us speak German, obviously…we’re all from former Soviet states, if you could pick up on our accents.”

“Yeah, me too, man. The damn Russians took over Prussia too.”

“What was that about the Russians?” crooned a voice from behind, causing Gilbert to jump a bit in surprise. He brushed it off quickly to turn and face the man, hoping that he would find the joke just as funny, but he was met only with the other’s man chest—he was quite tall, and Gilbert could only imagine the trench coat he was wearing had to be special ordered for someone as tall as he was. He had the hair of Evgeny Plushenko and light-colored eyes that appeared to be full of happiness, but Gilbert could only imagine what he looked like once he was angered. Most importantly, he noticed, was the Russian flag stitched prominently onto his coat’s front pocket.

“Uh…”

“Gilbert, did you say? It is nice to meet you, yes? I am boss. My inferiors call me Mr. Braginsky, but you may call me Ivan.”

Gilbert blinked a few times, feeling a bit frozen in place. “Uh. I’ll just stick to Mr. Braginsky, thanks.”

Ivan smiled without showing his teeth, which made Gilbert’s spine shiver. “Nonsense. I’m glad you’re here, we really needed someone who could speak German.”

“Forgive me, sir, but what is the kind of business you do?”

He smiled again, and this time Gilbert was certain he could see the lethal flash in his eyes. “That’s none of your concern. You can make spreadsheets, yes?”

“Uh, yeah…”

“Excellent. I trust you will settle in well. And if you need anything, please do not hesitate to let me know. Isn’t that right, Raivis?” Ivan suddenly approached the small boy-like man, pushing down on his head in what seemed to be an attempt at affection, but looked more like physical pain. Raivis nodded weakly under the touch, and Ivan, seemingly satisfied with his employees, took his leave.

Gilbert glanced at the two employees in the room, who seemed to be cowering and ready to burst into tears at any moment. From the corner, Eduard, who snuck back in during the confrontation, mumbled into his coffee cup, “Told ya so.”

\--

“Jesus Lord, _prinzessin_ , you won’t believe the day I had!” Gilbert yelled into the living room, tossing his bag across the wooden floor of the kitchenette with an accompanying loud yawn. “My boss is this crazy motherfuckin’ Soviet mob man, and the only other employees are his sisters and his slaves! Can you believe—“

He cut himself off suddenly, noting that he had yet to receive any sort of reply or demand to quiet down. The entire apartment held no signs of life, and a quick spin around in confusion led him to see an out of place piece of paper lying nondescriptly on the otherwise clean table. He approached carefully to read Roderich’s carefully scrawled cursive, saying, “Dear Gilbert, I will be out dealing with symphony related things tonight. Not as late as last time, but still a bit late. Help yourself to food. Regards, R.”

“God, he’s the kind of douchebag who signs off with his first initial,” Gilbert said as he wrinkled his nose, laying the note back to rest on the table and sighing loudly. What was he supposed to do now? He was really looking forward to telling Roderich all about his first day, and now he had no one to share it with. He looked back at the door and thought about Erzse, assuming she might listen to him complain, as she had done a million times. Although she could be annoying, she would have to do.

_Day 34_

Roderich made a point to try and come home quickly that day, noting Gilbert’s disappointment the day prior at his late arrival. He felt bad, but he really couldn’t help it—from the second Basch had gotten into town, he had been constantly requesting Roderich’s assistance in matters related to the concert. Basch hated to procrastinate, and was incredibly driven when it came to completing what needed to be done, so Roderich knew the next few weeks would be filled with plenty of texts and demands from his Swiss companion.

He set forth eagerly to his apartment, expecting to find Gilbert sprawled out on the sofa, beer in hand (now that he permitted him to drink again the German was rarely spotted without one) and ready to complain, but upon reaching his door, the laughter bellowing out of Erzse’s apartment distracted him. He distinctly made out Gilbert’s voice, and entered with hesitation, walking in to find the two laying lazily on the floor, canvases and paint tubes spread all around them.

“You’re the worst artist I’ve ever met, and I used to teach kids,” Erzse teased him, tossing her head back in laughter.

“Fuck you, Hungarian! I ain’t never liked art and shit anyways! I like looking at it, but not making it. Besides, have you seen the garbage you do?”

“It’s called abstract, and it’s not garbage!”

Roderich cleared his throat to gain their attention, and the two laughed even harder once they noticed he was there. “Jesus, how long have you been there?” Erzse managed to ask him, wiping away a strand of hair and leaving a pastel pink paint mark in its place.

“Um…what are you guys doing?”

“What does it look like, _schatz_? Painting, or in Erzse’s view, fucking up.”

“Don’t call me _schatz_ , Gilbert,” Roderich blushed, shaking his head in irritation. “I wasn’t expecting you two to be hanging out.”

“Well, especially since you’ve been gone later, he’s been coming over here and watching TV more often. It’s always more fun to watch with someone, anyway.”

“Yeah…” Roderich muttered, unable to shake the weird feeling he got from the encounter even as he stood in front of them. “Well…are you ready to come back, and, uh, tell me about your day?”

“Just gimme a few more minutes to finish,” Gilbert called nonchalantly back at him, his attention strictly on the painting.

“Oh…kay,” Roderich replied, turning to shut the door quietly and walk emotionlessly back into his own apartment. He frowned mostly at himself, unable to figure out why he felt so off about everything, but he couldn’t seem to think straight. Instead, he walked over to the mini closet he kept in the kitchen for wine bottles, and set to pouring himself a glass, figuring he deserved it.

_Day 35_

The meeting that night was on, of all things, the color scheme for the event, and it still took nearly three hours. By the end of it Roderich was sure he could feel his hair thinning from stress, and he wanted nothing more than to travel home and lie lazily on the sofa, while Gilbert kept himself busy with a new book of sudoku puzzles he had insisted on.

His tranquil thoughts were interrupted as Basch tapped him on the shoulder impatiently. “Would you like to grab something to eat?”

“I should really head home. I have dinner waiting for me there.”

Basch’s eyes narrowed a bit as the windy breeze blew his nearly shoulder-length hair astray. “Back with your drug addict?”

“Well, he does live with me, so naturally you’re correct.”

They walked towards the bus stop in silence for a few moments, until Roderich couldn’t handle the feeling of Basch’s words getting under his skin. “Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

“Why did you have to say something at all? It was an obvious answer. And he has a name, you know. It’s Gilbert.”

Basch turned to look at something insignificant in the distance, like the trees or some cars, before answering moodily, “I can’t refer to someone I’ve never met.”

Roderich shook his head, decidedly having had enough for the day. “I’ll see you later,” he mumbled half-heartedly, walking ahead of the Swiss man until he felt confident he was no longer walking beside him.

_Day 36_

Although it had been a busy week, Roderich and Ludwig decided to meet for lunch, despite the growing demands in their schedules. Roderich was running a bit late, which was unusual for him, and his demeanor once he finally showed up reflected such. “I’m so sorry, Ludwig, my mother called and I was dealing with…”

“Don’t worry about it,” the German smiled, “I figured you’d only be late for a good reason. Everything alright?”

“Yes, everything is fine. She wanted my opinion on an art piece she’s thinking of bidding on at an auction…anyway, it’s quite boring, so it doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t think it’s so boring. It’s nice to hear stories about your family, as I know you care for them.”

Without thinking, Roderich picked up a menu and replied, “I’ve never heard much about your mother, you know.” As soon as he had said it, Gilbert’s words from several weeks ago flashed through his mind: _Ludwig doesn’t remember anything, and that’s for the better._

“I don’t really know much about her,” he responded, seemingly unfazed. “She passed away soon after I was born, I think.”

Roderich felt as though he was entering forbidden territory, but he couldn’t tame his curiosity. “It must have been hard on Gilbert, being four years old or so.”

“Ah, we had different mothers.”

“Really? I never knew.”

“I don’t remember her either. I don’t think she saw Gilbert very much, if I recall correctly.”

“What about your father?”

Ludwig shrugged, carefully stirring sugar into his coffee. “I don’t know much about him either. I don’t really remember him.”

This concerned Roderich a little, as it seemed to echo Gilbert’s words exactly. “You don’t remember your own father?”

“No, not really. I remember our grandfather a little bit…he was very old, so I remember Gilbert doing most everything in the house, and that’s when he dropped out…and then he moved us to Munich so I could go to school here.”

Roderich began fussing with his coat buttons nervously, almost afraid Gilbert would pop out at any moment and threaten him for interfering. “Do you remember anything about Gilbert as a child?”

Ludwig seemed to think about it for a second, taking a sip of his coffee. “Not really. Just as a teenager, a little…he was always very serious. Very responsible. I was…very sad when he started drinking heavily, and then when he started using drugs. He seemed very capable, and then he just fell apart.”

Roderich could feel Ludwig’s somber mood as he watched him stare intently at his silverware. He dropped the conversation from that point on, although he couldn’t stow his curiosity for Gilbert’s past, and resolved to come back to it later.

_Day 37_

Roderich felt oddly at peace when he walked through the front door to see Gilbert channel surfing, his entire body sprawled on the sofa with a bag of chips lying on his stomach.

“You’d better not be getting crumbs on my sofa,” he warned gently, for once not all that bothered.

“Yeah, yeah,” Gilbert mumbled back, craning his neck so he could see him. “How was school, _prinzessin_?”

Rolling his eyes as he set down his belongings, Roderich replied, “Fine, the same as always. I’m working alongside one of my professors to perfect the piece I want to audition with next week…”

“Oh yeah, forgot about that. I’ll duck out more often and go over to Erzse’s so you can practice or whatever.”

“What?”

Gilbert laughed a little and turned back to face the TV, snuggling his head into a couch pillow. “I don’t want to distract you.”

Roderich was suddenly glad Gilbert had turned away from him, as he started to feel a bit flustered. Did he realize how nervous Roderich was to play around him? Was he picking up on more than Roderich had thought?

“Hey, so, I’ve had a thought,” Gilbert piped back up, reaching for the remote. “I’ve shown you that I can be a ‘good boy’ and shit, going to work, not fucking around…”

“Where are you going with this?”

In an instant Gilbert rolled up to a standing position, heading straight over to Roderich’s side with a pouty face. “Please, please, pretty please, let me go out for a night with my friends!”

“What? No! Why would I let you do that?”

“Come on, Roderich, I’ve been so good and I miss them! And booze, but, ya know, it’s our thing to go out every weekend, and I haven’t been able to for weeks!”

“Gilbert, you’re an idiot if you think I’m going to agree to that. I’m not going to let you go get drunk with your friends the Spanish dunce and the French pervert, who have no moral backbones and once intoxicated have no qualms about you sneaking off to go buy heroin.”

Gilbert was practically jumping up and down in impatience, ignoring Roderich’s defense stance. “What if you came with me and kept tabs on me, huh?”

“Why the hell would I want to go out to a bar?”

“Roderich, come on, it sucks having no freedom! You and I both know I’ve been doing my best, and I’ve done really good! I could be out during my work hours seeking out a dealer but I’ve actually been answering the fucking phone all day and making copies like an obedient slave!”

Roderich found himself stuttering, having a tough time coming up with a decent rebuttal. “But…I have my audition Friday!”

“So we go out Saturday, to celebrate!”

Roderich felt himself cornered by Gilbert’s argument, even if he was verbose enough to talk holes into it. The German’s excitement and utter exasperation seemed to be battling against him.

“Please, _schatz_? For me?”

That was what got him. “Damnit, fine! But stop calling me _schatz_!”

“You like it when I do,” Gilbert teased, slugging him playfully on the shoulder, “you get all red in the face. One day, you’ll call me _schatz_ back.”

Roderich grumbled in irritation, pointing towards the door. “Go to Erzse’s so I can practice, you nuisance!”

To his surprise, Gilbert complied happily.

 _Day 38_       

After a few weeks of intense training, Gilbert noticed himself starting to improve, being able to bench more weight and do more reps than before. He resolved to keep at it, ignoring Erzse’s superiority in the weight room and working at his own pace, and it looked like it was finally paying off.

Congregating near a water station, the workout buddies drank eagerly and chatted quietly amongst themselves. “I’m starting to see your biceps,” Erzse teased, checking the settings on her fitness watch with a hint of approval.

“They were just in hibernation,” Gilbert grinned back, flexing for effect, as Erzse stuck her tongue out at him.

“How’s Roderich? I feel like I hardly see him anymore.”

“Yeah, neither do I, really. He’s always either practicing for this audition thing or he’s at these long ass meetings for it. He’s gone like, all day!”

“Meetings?”

“Well yeah, that’s what they are.”

Erzse looked at Gilbert a bit incredulously, putting together the pieces of what Gilbert had been told. “He’s gone awfully long for something as simple as a meeting.”

“That’s what I’m saying! Well, never mind. He actually agreed to go out with me and my friends next weekend, so I’m not gonna complain too much.”

“That’s wildly surprising,” Erzse told him with smile, tossing her empty bottle into the recycling bin. “He’s going to have the worst time ever.”

Gilbert nodded slowly, closing his eyes in satisfaction. “Oh, I know.”

_Day 39_

No matter how much he tried to focus, even with Gilbert not there, Roderich was seriously struggling. He had been leaning over the piano keys for hours now, rethinking notes and playing through things to get a sense of what was missing, but he was endlessly distracted and he couldn’t determine why.

Perhaps it was Basch. The man had really been getting on his nerves lately, although that wasn’t unusual for the two of them. There was a reason they hadn’t worked out romantically, after all. However, Roderich couldn’t help but wonder if Erzse was onto something when she had mentioned Basch’s ‘pining’ over him. It certainly struck Roderich as a bit unusual for him to completely pack up and move to Munich for something so temporary, that could just as easily be micro-managed through phone calls and weekend visits. He wasn’t about to straight up demand an answer for the unusual behavior, but he decided he was going to pay more attention to the situation.

Or maybe it was Ludwig. He was thinking constantly about his comments on family, wondering if there was some way to put together the missing pieces. He didn’t mean to pry or be obnoxious, but he wasn’t able to easily let go of the odd series of facts he knew—that Gilbert hated talking about it, that Ludwig remembered nothing, and that it all may have had some effect on Gilbert’s struggles with addiction. He wondered if he might try an internet search to find their relatives, and he stowed this thought in his mind as well.

Or maybe, evidently, it was Gilbert. He felt embarrassed over his frequent thoughts about the man, trying to rationalize it by arguing that they lived together, and it was only natural he would care about him. He kept feeling bothered about Gilbert’s newfound friendship with Erzse, although even thinking about it caused him to admit how stupid it was. So what, they were friends; what did it matter? Why did it make any difference to him? He was the one who encouraged it, anyhow, telling Gilbert to visit Erzse during the day while he was bored. Yet he couldn’t stop thinking about it, going as far to wonder if Gilbert harnessed feelings for the Hungarian.

He slammed his hands down on the keys a bit dramatically, the sharp, biting sound they emitted raising his heart rate in the slightest. Now he just had a headache, and at this rate, he wasn’t certain about the fate of his audition.

_Day 40_

Gilbert had only been working at the office for a week, and he had somehow become enveloped in all the office drama: how Raivis had always been Ivan’s punching bag, how Yekaterina was driving Ivan insane with her debt problems, and how Toris had been going after Natalia to no avail for months now. He was glad he was only connected to these people as an employee, and not as a member of the family.

As soon as the clock hit 12:00, he put his computer on sleep mode and leaned back in his chair, pulling out a Kinder Bueno bar to start off his lunch hour. He needed a break from the antics of his coworkers that day, and even though he knew it wasn’t ideal to eat lunch at his own desk, it was the only sort of peace that he could find. Even the bathroom had a broken lock.

When he felt a whoosh of air hit him from the front door opening, he let out a small sigh and spun around, Bueno bar in hand, ready to tell off whoever bothered to come in at the standard German lunch hour, when the sight of who was before him stopped him completely. “Roderich? What the hell are you doing here?”

The Austrian man smiled a bit, shuffling uncomfortably in the miserable excuse for an office. “I figured I would stop by to make sure your job was real and not an invented excuse to go out.”

Gilbert let out an embarrassed laugh, caught off guard at Roderich’s appearance. “Shouldn’t you be, uh, practicing?”

“I can hardly focus, honestly…perhaps I’ve been over-exerting myself lately. I think I’ll try and make it home for dinner more often.”

“Hey, sounds good to me. It’s boring as shit without someone to annoy.”

They were interrupted for a moment by a man with a long blond bob dropping some papers at Gilbert’s desk, turning away with a hint of flamboyance. “ _Proszę bardzo_.”

“ _Dzięki_ ,” he replied, glancing at them briefly before focusing back on Roderich, who looked a bit shell-shocked.

“What was that?”

“Wow, rude, Feliks isn’t a what, he’s a whom.”

“No, Gilbert, the language.”

“Oh, it was just Polish,” he commented offhandedly, wiping a smudge of chocolate from the side of his lips.

Before Roderich had time to speak further—or quit staring at Gilbert’s lips as he acted—a large, towering man came behind Gilbert’s chair, with a smile that seemed questionably authentic. “Gilbert, who is this?”

“Ah, Mr. Braginsky, this is my friend Roderich. We live together.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Roderich said politely, extending his hand although he felt anxious in the Russian’s presence.

“Yes, it is good to meet you too. Do you work for federal authorities?”

Roderich raised an eyebrow at this, his intuition telling him something was quite off. “Um, no, I’m a university student.”

Ivan smiled again, waving his hand in some sort of warm gesture. “Ah, then please, feel free to stay for the lunch hour, and let me know if I can get you anything.” He finally took his leave, and Roderich and Gilbert exchanged looks that read the exact same.

“You were right,” Roderich told him in the comfort of their own language, “he is crazy.”

_Day 41_

Roderich had overslept that morning, another late night cutting into his sleeping time, and he was in a hurry to dress and eat breakfast in order to make it to class on time. Nothing was worse than the humiliation of being late, especially in front of one’s peers and professors.

As he grabbed the doorknob roughly, he turned around to quickly call, “Bye. Gilbert!” behind him, having barely spoken to the man in his fervor.

“Roderich, wait!”

The Austrian stopped, one foot out the door, and sighed in irritation. “What is it? I don’t have time to waste!”

Gilbert approached him steadily, reaching a hand out towards his body, making Roderich’s heart beat a little faster. He watched in suspense as Gilbert grabbed at his shirt and redid some of the buttons, which, as it turned out, were in the wrong holes.

“You can’t go out with your shirt buttoned the wrong way. That’s like, a fashion disaster for you.” Once he had finished, the German patted his chest affirmatively and smirked at him, his strong gaze leaving Roderich without words.

“I…”

In his momentary hesitation, Gilbert grabbed Roderich’s cheek and stretched it childishly. “Squish,” he giggled, seemingly enjoying his opportunity to take advantage of a flustered Roderich.

Gaining his senses again, Roderich pushed him off and gripped onto his bag again. “Imbecile,” he muttered, turning to finally head for the elevator, all the while wondering why his heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

_Day 42_

Finding a secluded corner of one of the university’s cafeterias, Roderich pulled out his laptop and a thermos full of soup and set to work. He realized he basically had nothing to go on, but he had to at least say he tried.

Searching ‘Beilschmidt’ on its own didn’t really do anything; there were plenty of Beilschmidts in Germany, so he would need to get more specific. He added ‘Gilbert’ to the search and tried to see if that would turn up anything, but evidently little came up. The search was going to be fruitless without more information; although risky, he knew he would need to covertly pester Ludwig’s memory to try and get a name or a date that would come up easier.

_Day 43_

It didn’t take an expert in psychology to realize how stressed out Roderich was. Gilbert noticed him fidgeting endlessly with his clothes, his hair, his glasses…anything he could grab hold of, he twirled or pulled to its limit.

Gilbert watched him from the kitchen table, having finished dinner an hour or two ago (he tried to get Roderich to eat, but the man complained of his uneasy stomach and feigned a lack of appetite). He ate from a tub of ice cream, something Roderich positively hated, as the Austrian sat suspended over his piano, having a staring competition with his notes. Gilbert wasn’t sure who was winning.

Sighing loudly (although he was unsure if Roderich could even hear him), Gilbert said, “Hey, Four-Eyes, take a break for the love of God.”

Roderich turned to him, his eyes bloodshot, his face a bit puffy. “I can’t possibly take a break, Gilbert, why would you even suggest that?”

“Because,” he lulled, setting the ice cream down to walk casually over to Roderich’s side, “you know, like, studies have shown that regular breaks actually help improve focus. I read it in a magazine or some shit.”

Roderich looked unconvinced, so Gilbert put on his best puppy dog eyes and pleaded, “Come onnn, let’s watch a movie! Then I’ll go to bed and you can hammer on your piano and pull your hair out all you want.”

Roderich sighed hopelessly, letting his pencil fall from his iron grip onto the bench. “Alright, fine. One movie, no longer than two hours, and then I get back to work.”

They settled into the couch, a comfortable distance apart, as Gilbert insisted on an action movie, while Roderich requested something with more finesse. They agreed on a period drama about the French Revolution, which was equal parts blood for Gilbert and costume design for Roderich.

At some point early on Roderich got up to fetch some chips from his unhealthy drawer, munching quietly through what counted as his dinner. He was kind of exhausted and not truly invested in the movie, and he probably would’ve fallen asleep with his hand inside the chip bag if it weren’t for the feeling of his right thigh suddenly pressed against Gilbert’s left, the German’s face close enough to where he could hear him breathe.

“Man, you’re hoggin’ all the chips,” he said, snatching the bag from him to reach for his own handful.

Roderich was slightly affronted, as per usual, but he was also strangely unopposed to the sudden contact. He assumed it was because he was tired, but even in his sleepy state he realized that the reasoning didn’t entirely match. He felt comfortable with Gilbert by his side, and he didn’t want him to scoot away. Luckily, he didn’t.

By the time the movie was over, Roderich was fast asleep on Gilbert’s shoulder, a tiny droplet of drool threatening to move down to Gilbert’s shirt. He smiled widely, the man’s innocence and sweet sleeping face putting him at peace. If only every day could be this nice—if only Roderich could always be this relaxed.

_Day 44_

Roderich woke up, to his surprise, in his own bed, although he had no recollection of getting there. Last he remembered they were watching a movie, and then…oh, Gilbert must have carried him to bed. The thought flashed through his brain with a twinge of embarrassment, but he had no time to dwell on it; he had to get to class, and then shortly afterwards was his audition.

He ate breakfast quickly, more or less ignoring Gilbert’s smug smile in his direction, and was about to head out the door before the German stopped him again.

“Hey, good luck, man.”

Roderich turned back to him and managed to smile, nodding before he headed off. Gilbert had more intuition than he had given him credit for, he noted.

\--

Roderich was seated backstage in a plastic folding chair, the kind they used at outdoor weddings or graduation ceremonies, rocking back and forth slightly in an attempt to calm himself. He tried repeating inspirational mantras in his head, arguing with himself that whatever the results he was still a good pianist, but he was too self-aware of how big a deal the concert was. Occasionally big shots for the orchestra or international symphonies attended, and if they spotted his talent, it could mean landing something big once he graduated in another year. That kind of pressure couldn’t be ignored.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted Basch approaching him, a clipboard in hand to signify the type of micromanager he was. He stopped in front of Roderich’s chair and shook his hand once the Austrian rose to greet him, although his eyes were directed at the floor.

“Roderich,” he began softly, “I wanted to say I’m sorry. I’ve been kind of a jerk lately, and I want to…not be.”

Roderich nodded, his hands feeling restless. “Thank you. I accept your apology.”

“You’ll do fine out there. Just relax and focus on something that makes you happy.”

Roderich nodded again as he heard his name being called. He thought he vaguely felt Basch touch his shoulder, but he had no reaction to it, walking robotically towards the stage. Once seated he took a deep breath and thought of what made him happy, just as Basch said—he imagined a day on the Danube, a light accompaniment of music in the background, with a well-packed picnic. Ludwig and Erzse sat across from him, munching eagerly, and right next to him, holding his hand, was Gilbert, smiling and lively, healthy and happy.

\--

Roderich came home shortly after three in the afternoon, and Gilbert, previously attached to the television, cut around to look at him. “So?!”

“You can relax,” Roderich smiled, “I got in.”

“Aw, fuck yeah!” Gilbert yelled, leaping from the couch to run over to the Austrian, arms spread widely for an inevitable tackle.

“Wait a second, don’t knock me to the floor again!” he argued, bracing himself against the table as Gilbert decided against playing rough, embracing him gently instead. Although fleeting, Roderich closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of tobacco which stuck to Gilbert’s clothes relentlessly, and he tried not to appear disappointed once Gilbert pulled away.

“You’re gonna be in a concert! How cool is that! All the fuckin’ snooty rich people will come and watch you and make vague comments to sound intelligent, and it’s gonna be great!”

Roderich shook his head but still managed to laugh, finally taking a second to kick off his shoes. “I’m sure they will.”

“And, you know what this means?”

“Hm?”

“Tomorrow, we’re going out with Antonio and Francis! Fuck yeah!”

He had been so focused on his audition that he had forgotten about the promise entirely, but it was clearly too late to turn him down now, and not when he looked this happy about it. Instead, he hung his head in resignation, ignoring Gilbert’s sly look when he moaned, “What have I signed myself up for?”

_Day 45_

The bar wasn’t horribly crowded—people could still move through the area without bumping against too many shoulders—but it was more than enough to send Roderich into a slight panic.

“Can’t we do this some other time?” he reasoned hopelessly, feeling a bit like a child who had clearly lost the argument.

Gilbert just laughed at him and waved him off, navigating through the crowds swiftly until he finally spotted the table where Antonio and Francis sat. Roderich stood back and watched as the man and his friends hugged and exchanged greetings after a long time without seeing each other, with Antonio and Francis examining their German cohort thoroughly, as if seeing a new person.

“Is it really true, _mon amour_? You are off the drugs for good?”

“You look so much better, Gilbert! Your face doesn’t look shrunken in at all!”

“Wow, thanks assholes,” Gilbert laughed back at them, flexing his biceps in an overly cocky manner. “Yeah, I’m new and improved, all right. I feel pretty damn good, too. Now for Christ’s sake, can we get a round of drinks up in here?”

The duo responded approvingly, turning to make their way to the bar, when Gilbert realized he hadn’t introduced his babysitter for the night. “Oh, guys, this is Roderich. He’s from Austria, he’s Jewish, he’s a killjoy, and now you know everything you need to about him.”

Roderich frowned in annoyance, but extended his hand to the German’s friends, who he knew only certain stories about from Ludwig. Francis was a major player, dating his way through most of Munich’s single population, while Antonio was, on the opposite side of the romantic spectrum, happily married only a few years out of secondary school, to his Italian sweetheart. Gilbert, accordingly, was the perpetually lonely addict. They made an interesting trio, alright.

Francis took Roderich’s extended hand and brought it to his lips for a chaste kiss. “ _Enchante_ , dear. You know, Marie Antoinette was Austrian…”

“He’s not gonna date you,” Gilbert rolled his eyes, and the Frenchman giggled in response. Roderich quickly withdrew his hand and wiped it on the back of his coat.

Antonio seemed more friendly and normal, chiming in, “Ah yes, it’s nice you came out with us tonight!”

“I didn’t exactly have much of a choice, and besides, I’m merely an observer. I won’t be drinking anything more than water.”

“Your loss, man. Say, if you’re gonna be a man-baby and not drink with us, at least hold the table while we go to the bar, eh?”

Roderich flashed Gilbert a look that warned him not to get too comfortable with the loose attitude as he slid into the booth, watching with slight suspicion as the group bounded towards the bartender. He still didn’t feel entirely comfortable letting Gilbert roam around a bar—there had to be dealers around, and he had no clue how Gilbert’s resolve would hold up in the face of temptation. Instead, he pulled out his phone and began browsing through his notes, deleting old ones that had no purpose—it was going to be a long night.

\--

On their third round of beers (and one accidental vodka shot for Roderich, after Gilbert had claimed it was water), Roderich had organized every app on his phone by color, name, and date of download, and he was now at the point where he was examining how much storage space they took up and debating whether he really needed them. Gilbert, meanwhile, was laughing heartily with his friends, exchanging stories about his life in ‘captivity’, as he referred to it.

“And then there’s this crazy chick that lives next door, and she’s ripped as fuck, like she could kick my ass, like she would wear the pants.”

“Do you happen to have her number?” Francis purred, hands grasping a glass of cognac.

“Dude, she would destroy you. Best save it for another day.”

From behind them, a woman with cropped sandy blonde hair and a bright red headband leaned on the back of their table, her chubby cheeks lighting up with a vibrant pink flush as she smiled. “Now, here’s a sight I haven’t seen in a while.”

“Emma, how nice of you to stop by!” Antonio beamed, leaning up to kiss both of her cheeks.

“Yeah, long time no see, Waffle Girlie,” Gilbert quipped, taking another gulp of his beer.

“Where have you been, Gilbert? Off in some alley with a needle stuck in your arm?”

“For your information, no, I’m clean now. I mean, mostly. Like, I wish I weren’t clean, but we can’t always get what we want.”

Roderich still hadn’t been introduced to the girl, who he was finding himself a bit irritated over—maybe it was her full breasts supported by the table’s edge being a little too close to Gilbert for his liking, or maybe he was just overheated in this cesspool of a bar. Maybe he just needed another drink. “I’ll be back,” he commented gruffly, standing and pushing his way past a group of young uni students to head for the bar.

“Who was that?” Emma asked the group, watching intently as Gilbert’s gaze seemed to follow Roderich’s direction.

“Gilbert’s new squeeze,” Francis said, before promptly being hit over the head with a wet table coaster.

Once at the bar Roderich got several more shots of vodka—he had never tasted it before that night, and he handled the first shot well enough, so he assumed he could take another few without complication. Maybe, hopefully, it would clear his head, and ease him of all the stress he carried with him.

\--

Around two in the morning, Gilbert managed to drag a belligerent Roderich out onto the street, with his friends close behind in case he dropped the poor man.

“You really are stronger, Gilbert,” Antonio complemented nearly breathlessly, his attention focused on the babbling Austrian.

“I don’t wanna go,” he muttered, reaching up to move some of his sweat-tinged hair out of his face.

“Too bad, _prinzessin,_ you’re a drunken mess and you need to go to bed. Serves me right for knowing you can’t handle your liquor.” Hailing a cab with his free arm, Gilbert turned back to his friends for a moment, smirking, “Thanks for the night, guys. I missed this kinda shit.”

“We’re proud of you, Gilbert,” Francis smiled, roughing up the German’s hair in response.

“Oh, fuck off. See you around,” he grunted as he pushed Roderich into the backseat of the cab, ignoring his unruly arms attempting to grab the door. He slid in next to Roderich, slamming the door shut and rattling off their address before waving to his friends, and they quickly disappeared among the drawl of Munich’s nightlife.

“Gilb,” Roderich slurred, his head resting tiredly on Gilbert’s lap, “I am really drunk.”

“I know, _schatzchen_ ,” Gilbert replied, petting his head a bit in some sort of comforting gesture.

Roderich mumbled a series of half-sensical phrases, leaving Gilbert to mostly stare out the window and rest his fingers in Roderich’s soft, slightly oily hair. Despite the circumstances, he felt quite at peace; he felt himself blush as he realized he was almost relishing in this moment.

Once they reached the apartment, Gilbert covertly grabbed Roderich’s wallet from his pocket and paid the driver, although for his credit Roderich didn’t even seem to notice the sneaky pickpocketing. He clambered inside, holding onto Roderich’s shoulders to gently lead him, until the elevator reached their floor. Once inside the safety of the apartment, Gilbert let go of Roderich, who promptly fell to the floor.

“Jesus Christ, you’ve never had liquor before, have you?” the German questioned as he threw off his coat, stooping down to take Roderich’s hand and encourage him up. He stood shakily, laughing softly under his breath, his head swaying gently. Gilbert huffed, torn between amusement and concern, and managed, “What were you trying to escape tonight?”

“Who do you think?” Roderich laughed again, his unfocused eyes landing on Gilbert’s face, as one of his stray hands came up to grasp his jaw.

Gilbert stood frozen, unsure what to make of Roderich’s hasty move. It took him a few seconds to realize that whatever this was, it wasn’t a moment of clarity—Roderich was impaired, and he couldn’t be trusted to make informed choices. With this in mind, he gently pushed the man away, pointing down the hallway. “Roderich, go to bed. You’re gonna feel like shit when you wake up.”

The Austrian pouted a bit, but didn’t fight back, whispering, “You’re a nuisance,” as he turned to stumble down the hallway, and mere seconds later Gilbert heard him crash into his mattress.

The German lingered in the hallway for a few moments more, running a finger against the part of his jaw that Roderich had grabbed for. What had he been trying to do, anyway? He realized he could spend all night speculating, but it wouldn’t be worth it: Roderich was drunk, end of story. He postponed smoking a cigarette and went straight to bed.

_Day 46_

Gilbert had been leisurely drinking a cup of coffee and smoking on the balcony when something crashing to the floor inside woke him up. He followed the noise to Roderich’s bedroom, where he saw the culprit, an alarm clock pulled out of its plug; shortly afterwards, the sound of Roderich puking in the bathroom followed.

Gilbert strode over haughtily to watch the Austrian in his mess, suddenly finding it more entertaining than whatever was on TV. “Something tells me you’re not feeling too well.”

Roderich glanced up at him from the toilet bowl with half-awake eyes. “What happened last night?”

“How could you forget that orgy, with strippers of all different genders?”

“Very funny, fool. I feel like I’m dying.”

“I know,” he mumbled in a softer tone, secretly cherishing the image of a hungover Roderich with all of his heart. “You’re gonna be fine, _prinzessin._ You just need some fluids, some food, and some rest. Come on.”

He stretched out a hand which Roderich took, although shakily, and helped him into a standing position. Roderich wobbled a bit as he looked down at the floor, whispering, “I think I’m still drunk.”

Gilbert laughed at him as he led him back into his bed, covering him with the blankets in a dramatic fashion. “There there, little baby, I’ve got you.”

“Gilbert, don’t be a dick.”

“Woah, big language there, pal. Alright, wait a damn second, I’ll get you some nourishment.” Before turning to head to the kitchen, he caught himself on a memory and blurted out, “So, you really don’t remember anything from last night.”

“No,” he said meekly, draping a hand across his eyes to block out the light from the hallway.

With that, Gilbert turned away with finality, blinking a bit rapidly as he tried to block out the feeling of disappointment that came up so suddenly.

_Day 47_

He almost left the house this time to check for Ludwig—and part of his dream mind was convinced that would be a good idea as he could run away from the danger, but the other part was convinced that was the plan all along, to lure him outside and run him over with a car or something.

He was opening cabinets and rummaging through file folders when it occurred to him he hadn’t checked the hall closet. That ominous feeling came again, but he ignored it, the safety of his brother imminently more important—and as soon as he opened the door, it seemed as if a whoosh of air pushed him inside, the door slamming into his backside. The room was cramped and dark, and a mouse could be heard scurrying through the walls. No need to panic, Gilbert insisted to himself—it was just dark and small, and once he had adjusted for a few seconds, it would be fine. Everything would be fine. And if he could just get out—

The door opened just wide enough for a grim and familiar hand to push in a bucket, the water inside sloshing onto Gilbert’s feet, which were suddenly bare. It stung a little bit, and he started to wonder why water would sting when it suddenly occurred to him, as his breathing grew labored, that it wasn’t water at all—it was some sort of chemical combination, a deadly one. He grasped desperately for the door, trying to yank it open, but he was losing his breath no matter how hard he tried to keep calm…

“Hey man, wake up!”

Gilbert’s head popped up from the back of the seat in front of him as he gasped frantically for air, his awareness quickly coming back to him as he realized he was being stared at by at least two dozen other U-Bahn passengers, some of whom were leaning over him in concern. He bit his lip and put a hand to his heart, where the organ was beating erratically.

“Are you alright?”

The train halted at the next station and Gilbert, completely discombobulated, stood and yelled, “This is my stop!” before darting out into a crowd of people waiting to get on. He had no idea where he was, but he needed to find a place where he could quietly collect himself, contain his anxiety, bottle it back up, and move on for the day.

He walked around the station in a daze, feeling mentally drained and barely awake. In his confusion he walked down the wrong side of the hall and ran into some grumpy morning commuters, one who pushed past him quite aggressively, in a move that he knew would leave a bruise on his shoulder. He finally found a toilet and ducked inside, locked the stall behind him, and let the tears flow carelessly down his face.

_Day 48_

“Ludwig,” Roderich started, picking at the pieces of chicken in his salad, “I have a question for you.”

Ludwig’s eyes lit up in a small jolt of surprise as he poured himself another glass of water from the pitcher on their table. “Funny enough, I have a question for you.”

“Oh? By all means then, you go first.”

Glancing off at the other side of the café, with nothing particularly interesting in sight, Ludwig hesitated, “It’s about Gilbert.”

Roderich nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“Do you…do you really think he’s getting better?”

Now Roderich was the one who looked surprised. “What?”

“Well, do you think he is?”

“Well…yes, in my opinion, I think he’s doing a lot better. He seems a lot happier. Maybe I don’t notice everything, but that’s what I’ve seen.”

Ludwig sighed again, resting his forehead on an open palm. “I am just worried that once this is all over, things will go back to normal again. I can’t watch him all the time, and I don’t know that he can keep up the good behavior on his own.”

Roderich flashed him a confused expression, folding his napkin into a tight square. “It sounds like you don’t have much faith in him, Lud.”

“I know it sounds horrible, but I really don’t. I don’t trust him much.” A small silence followed, neither sure what to say, before Ludwig resumed, “Roderich, I don’t want to bury my brother.”

Roderich could feel his eyes burning with the feeling of newly formed tears, but he resolved to keep his composure. There was something about that thought, of Gilbert dying, that seemed to nearly break him. He had no idea how many times Ludwig had come home to Gilbert after overdosing—he was only there for the most recent one, when they walked into Ludwig’s apartment one afternoon and stumbled upon Gilbert, a needle in his outstretched hand, on the precipice of consciousness. The doctors all said the same thing—it was lucky you got there in time, a little bit longer and he might not have made it—and at the time he had only felt annoyed with Gilbert, thinking that he was so selfish and irresponsible. Things seemed to change now that they lived together. He saw him less as problem and more as a person.

“I suppose that was a bit dark,” Ludwig laughed weakly, clearing his throat and picking up his fork again. “So, what was it that you wanted to ask me?”

“Oh, uh,” Roderich started, feeling a bit thrown off, “um, do you remember what your father’s name was?”

“My father’s name? I have no clue, actually. Sorry to say.”

He would probably feel disappointed later, but at the moment, all Roderich felt was emptiness.

_Day 49_

“Of course, it doesn’t surprise me that you got in,” Basch said smugly over a glass of wine, his lips pursed in a continual pout. “Your playing has improved tenfold even since gymnasium.”

“It sounds like you’re trying to complement me,” Roderich smirked, the man’s pride almost rivalling Gilbert’s.

“Don’t push it. Listen, you’re going to help with the planning next week, right?”

“Isn’t it a bit…what’s the word…unjust, for a performer in the concert to assist in the concert’s development?”

“Nonsense, you’re doing your friend a favor.”

“I would hardly call us friends. More like, agreeable enemies.”

Basch smiled a bit at that, pulling out his wallet in a swift motion.

“You’re not paying for this, you fool.”

“I won’t fight you on this.”

“See, this is why we’re enemies and not friends.”

“Whatever. Anyway, when will I get to see your place?”

Roderich squirmed a bit uncomfortably in his seat, thinking of Gilbert and how he still hadn’t exactly mentioned Basch to him. “Uh…soon.”

“You keep saying that. What about after the meeting next Friday, since it’ll end earlier?”

If it was early enough in the afternoon, Roderich figured he might beat Gilbert home, or, worst case, send him over to Erzse’s. He felt a bit uneasy about the plan, but he also knew he couldn’t keep Basch waiting forever. “Fine. We’ll go then.”

_Day 50_

“I’m bored,” Gilbert said through a mouthful of mashed potatoes, gently grating his fork on the plate while making sure Roderich wasn’t annoyed by it.

“We’re in the middle of dinner,” Roderich commented back, taking a sip of his beer (which was, of course, Austrian—“It’s just better,” he insisted).

“No, like not now, I mean in general. I wanna do something this weekend. Can we do something this weekend?”

“I suppose, as long as it doesn’t involve alcohol. I swear I’m still nursing off my headache.”

“Yeah, fine. What should we do?”

“I don’t know, we only live in one of the most popular tourist areas in Germany,” Roderich retorted.

“Shut up, know-it-all. I was asking if there was anything you wanted to do before I suggest something that you turn down.”

“Do you have something in mind?”

Suddenly appearing a bit sheepish, Gilbert shrugged, “I wanna go to the zoo.”

“Hellabrunn? Really?”

“I wanna see the birds.”

Roderich wrinkled his face together. “I hate birds.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fine, we can go to the zoo. If it makes you happy, we’ll go.”

Gilbert devolved into a mushy smile, reaching over to pinch Roderich’s cheeks again before the Austrian ducked out of the way. “Aww, you do have a heart.”

“How come every time I say anything remotely nice to you, you make me regret it?”

Gilbert shrugged and winked at him, sending his heart racing for some untold reason. “I have that effect on people.”

_Day 51_

He was really hoping he could get to 100 today, proving to Erzse that her snide looks about how much better she was were finally going to end there and then, but as soon as they got into the gym he could tell it wasn’t going to happen. His muscles felt weak and his brain seemed to be functioning at half-capacity; he just wasn’t getting enough sleep lately. After the nightmare on the train and all the public humiliation that came with it, he was terrified to sleep, fearing he would break down if another painful nightmare came to his mind. He spent plenty of nights now staring up at the ceiling, trying to practice deep breathing skills he had read about in a health magazine, ignoring how achingly quiet the apartment became and reminding himself that Roderich was just down the hall—not that he would ever wake him for anything. That was below him, to ask for comfort.

Regardless of his exhaustion he couldn’t let on to Erzse that he was tired—she would pick up on it easily, confess to Roderich, and then the Austrian would refuse to leave him alone. So he waltzed over to the weight rack as normal, began easing his way up to heavier reps, and eventually found himself placing two 50 kgs evenly on the bar.

He stuck his tongue out at Erzse, who was watching him with a keen glance, eager to see if he could really prove himself. He got into lifting position, focused on the wall ahead of him, tightened his fists around the bar, and lifted it from the rack, certain he could extend it for just a few seconds—but before he could take more than two steps his legs started to wobble, and before his knees gave in Erzse was behind him, helping him rerack the weight before he injured himself.

“Jesus,” she whispered, “are you alright? You look like a ghost. You almost had it, too.”

Gilbert laughed sheepishly, hoping her intuition wasn’t picking up his lies. “Ah, guess I just wasn’t quite ready yet. I’m pushing myself too hard, damnit.”

She seemed to accept his explanation well enough—she didn’t question him any further—but away from her fierce gaze of concern Gilbert began to realize that his inner defense system was crumbling.

_Day 52_

Hellabrunn was more crowded than Roderich had anticipated it to be, but he found he didn’t mind as much after watching Gilbert’s entranced look, and they glided between noisy families and animal exhibits with ease. Gilbert frequently turned to his Austrian companion to relate some obscure fact about the animals they were looking at. He was reminded again of Gilbert insisting he wasn’t smart—yet he knew so many interesting things, things he had picked up from watching TV or reading magazines or just by living in a certain area, things that he felt had no use but to Roderich made him stand out as someone with a strong memory, who was multi-faceted, who cared about more than he let on. Someone he never wanted to stop talking to.

“Okay, I know you said you hate them, but over there you can step into the birdie area and feed them and I really really want to! So please, pretty please, can we feed the birds?”

Roderich, who was a bit alarmed at the outburst after having been so deep in thought, glanced over at the begging man next to him, and found himself unable to reject his pitiful demeanor. “Fine, we’ll go feed the birds. But if anything so much as flies near me, we’re leaving.”

Gilbert jumped in the air like an impatient child, grabbing onto Roderich’s hand and pulling him towards the exhibit. Although Roderich was annoyed at being dragged along, he didn’t mind the feeling of Gilbert’s hand closing around his, and even when they had reached the birds, he didn’t let go.

Once inside the caged exhibit, where birds flew wildly from tree to tree, occasionally swooping in to eat from the cups of nectar that people held in nervously outstretched fingers, Gilbert had no qualms about being in bird paradise, flinging his arms open and calling, “Come to me, birdies of the world! I am your master!”

Roderich, who was standing as close to a zoo keeper as possible, smiled as he watched Gilbert try and tempt the birds, noticing how genuinely happy he looked. He was so busy lately, with practicing for the concert and meetings and school work, and it felt like it had been forever since he had just seen Gilbert laugh. He thought back to Ludwig, whose faith in his older brother seemed to be dwindling if not non-existent—maybe he had just never seen this side of Gilbert, one where he was care-free and in a good mood, not haunted by anything. He wondered how to get this side of Gilbert to stay forever.

While he was lost in thought, a sherbert-c7olored bird landed with a firm plop on Roderich’s head, its claw-like feet nestling comfortably in his downy hair. Roderich instantly froze, feeling the movement, and opened his mouth to immediately scream before Gilbert rushed to his side, clearly trying not to laugh.

“Just walk slowly, he’ll fly off,” he assured, grabbing Roderich’s hand again, which he accepted with fear-struck gratitude.

Completely taken by panic, Roderich attempted a few steps forward, but the bird didn’t budge, seemingly content with making a nest out of Roderich’s hair. “Gilbert, get it off or I swear to God,” he muttered behind clenched teeth, his face fixed in a deep frown.

Gilbert waved the food cup at the bird, cheering, “Hey birdie, want some sweet stuff? Come here, sweet bird~”

The bird flew from Roderich’s hair to his shoulder, the movement causing the Austrian to shudder. Gilbert squeezed his hand gently, lifting the nectar cup to the bird, who began pecking at it with interest. “Aww, he likes you.”

“Well, I don’t like him!” Roderich whispered angrily, trying not to look at the avian menace that was perched on his shoulder.

“I’m sure once he’s done eating, he’ll leave.”

Sure enough, after a few more tense moments of the bird drinking, it flew off towards an extended tree branch, freeing Roderich from his torment. As soon as it was over he made a dash for the exit, and Gilbert, laughing raucously, followed behind him.

“Man, you shoulda seen the look on your face.”

“Save it, Gilbert, I’m not in the mood.”

“You know what kinda bird that was, right? It was a lovebird! And it landed on you, which means you’re in love!”

Roderich flushed a bit, from embarrassment or frustration he wasn’t sure. “Is that so?”

“I guess it’s just a matter of who you’re in love with,” Gilbert winked at him, but before he could say anything else the Austrian began walking ahead of him, his face redder than a cherry tomato.

“We’re getting crepes, because the only thing that will stop you from talking is eating. Let’s go.”

Gilbert knew he had hit home with his innocent teasing, and it pleased him—although he struggled to admit to himself why.

_Day 53_

Another day, another cigarette smoked on the balcony—it was such an inconvenience to have to keep going outside to smoke, especially late at night when he was tired and it was freezing, but he wasn’t about to experience Roderich’s fury of finding ashes in his house.

Speaking of ash, another hot scoop of it had just landed on his fingers, and he flicked it off in disgust. He was barely paying attention to his cigarette, and he swore he could feel a migraine coming on. His mind felt disoriented, and he couldn’t figure out how to fix it.

Between his sleeping problems and frequent nightmares, he was finding himself experiencing emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time. Emotions that caused him to do weird, uncharacteristic things, like hold Roderich’s hand the day before, and continue to think about it now, even though the moment had long passed.

Why was he doing this? Who cares, he held the guy’s hand. He was scared about the birds, and he was trying to comfort him. But wait, how had he gone from hating the guy and being desperate to escape his apartment to harboring some sort of horrible, nearly painful crush on him?

Oh, God. He had just admitted it to himself. Blinking rapidly, Gilbert stared at the window across the way, the laundry hanging carelessly on the balcony, a house plant that hadn’t been watered in a good two weeks. _I have a crush on Roderich_. How could he let this happen? It happened so casually, the same way the leaves change color and one day you look up and notice them, almost wondering how you could’ve missed it. Somewhere, between the nightly dinners and the arguments about turning down the TV, Gilbert had fallen for the Austrian. He thought suddenly about how nice it would feel to curl up next to him in his big bed with the silky sheets, sleeping peacefully and dreamlessly for the first time in a decade.

Another bunch of ashes fell on his jeans, burning into the fabric before he could wipe them away. Even though it was only half-smoked, he crushed his cigarette into the ashtray and retreated inside. That migraine was only going to get worse, and he decided to take some aspirin to quash it quickly.

_Day 54_

“I’ve never seen you so distracted.”

Roderich jumped a bit from the piano bench, turning to flash an angry glare at the Swiss man behind him. “Don’t scare me like that. You know it gives me anxiety.”

Basch rolled his eyes at him, leaning against the piano even though it bothered Roderich to no end.

“I suppose I am a bit distracted,” Roderich admitted to him, closing the lid of the piano to rest his arms across it.

“Any idea why?”

Roderich sat silently for a few moments, his brain a mixture of music notes and empty thoughts. _Gilbert_ , he thought to himself. “I don’t know.”

“You can be honest. You did say recently that we are something of amicable enemies.”

“Really, it’s nothing…I’m just tired, is all. A lot of pressure, and the stress is getting to me.”

 “You’re so hopeless,” Basch nearly laughed at him, crossing his arms as he stood straight once more. “Listen, do what you have to do to be in your best shape, but don’t do anything that will kill your performance. The director of the Vienna Symphony has been invited, and rumor has it she’s planning on attending.”

The news was a bit alarming to him, but under the protection of his arm cave he nodded, thankful Basch couldn’t see his expression. He was right, after all—whatever feelings he was dealing with had to be stowed until at the least the end of the concert, when he could focus on things other than his piano piece, which reminded him he needed to return to his work at once.

_Day 55_

“Wake up, little sleepy German man! Come on now, it is time for wake up!”

Gilbert startled from his uncomfortable position, his head resting against a jacket propped up on his desk. He could feel his neck ache at the movement, but he was more focused on the imposing eyes of his Russian boss boring down into him, that signature smile never leaving his lips.

“Oh, _mein Gott_ …I’m sorry, Mr. Braginsky, I—“

“Uh-uh, I told you to call me Ivan!”

“…well, I’m sorry, I did not mean to fall asleep. It is my mistake, I will not do it again.”

“Not sleeping well, are you? You should come to my house sometime! I have nice, big bed for sleeping, everyone who sleeps in it is instantly without consciousness!”

“Wow, sounds great,” Gilbert shook his head, making a note to hide his arms under the desk as he wasn’t wearing his jacket, not wanting Ivan to see the scars where his track marks used to be. “I have to make a phone call now, okay?”

“Of course,” Ivan nodded, walking away after what seemed to be an eternity. Once he was gone Gilbert smacked his head and cursed himself for falling asleep, especially in the office, where he wasn’t positive Ivan could be trusted to not sell him off to a human trafficking ring. It was a stupid mistake, one that could’ve gotten him fired, and if his sleeping problems didn’t improve, he knew he was in trouble.

_Day 56_

Roderich hadn’t so much as gotten off the elevator before he was bombarded by Erzse, who looked a bit more frazzled than normal. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever! Come have tea with me?”

He couldn’t quite place why, but Roderich felt a bit annoyed with her, and he accepted the invitation out of politeness more than genuine interest. “Alright, but let me set my things down first.”

As they walked into her cramped apartment, Roderich noted the overwhelming odor of glue, and directed his attention to a massive papier-mache project building up on her table. “Looks like you’ve got your mind set on a new project.”

“I don’t even know what it is, honestly. Half a litre of whiskey and impulse buys at the art supply store will do that to you.”

Roderich shifted uncomfortably in her loveseat, taking his glasses off to clean them. “What’s new with you?”

“Roderich, have you noticed anything odd about Gilbert lately?”

With everything fuzzy without his glasses, Roderich glared in no particular direction, irritated she had even mentioned him. “No, what do you mean?”

“I was trying to get your attention the last few days, but you were always busy or out of the house…he’s not looking so well.”

“Again, I don’t know what you mean. He seems perfectly fine to me.” He noticed his tone growing a bit harsh, but made no move to correct it.

Erzse stared at him a bit wildly, picking up on his irritation. “Are you in a bad mood or something?”

“I have things I need to do today, that’s all.”

She sighed tiredly, putting her hair up into a loose ponytail. “Well feel free to leave then, I don’t mean to keep you if you don’t care to be here. All I’m saying is he looks a little sick, so maybe start paying attention a bit more, okay?”

With that Roderich stood, grabbing his things and making a curt stride for the door. “I think I know him better than you do,” he mumbled, shutting the door without looking behind him to see Erzse standing in the middle of the room, more confused than she had ever been about her curious Austrian friend.

_Day 57_

“Gilbert,” Roderich started, a bit uneasily, as he held a spoonful of soup in his outstretched hand, “is everything alright?”

The German paused from his attempts to slurp soup straight from the bowl to flash a quizzical look at Roderich, his eyebrows raised almost comically. “Uh, yeah? It’s all very tasty, you did a good job.”

“No, not with the food, with you. Are you feeling well lately?”

Gilbert’s heart pounded hard in his chest. Had he caught on? Perhaps he had billed Roderich as far too clueless for his own good, and this whole time the man knew about his pitiful little crush, and was just waiting for the perfect opportunity to turn him down. “Um.”

“Gilbert? You look pale.”

His mouth suddenly went dry, and he wasn’t sure what to say.

“Are you getting enough sleep?”

His senses finally came back to him, and he responded dismissively, “Of course I’m getting enough sleep, and Jesus _prinzessin_ , I’m fine! Maybe you’re the one who has something wrong.”

“I was just asking a simple question…”

“Well, think twice before you ask me stupid questions,” he argued, returning to his soup and thus ending the conversation. Roderich didn’t push any further; maybe Erzse was just out of her mind.

_Day 58_

He was hoping that he could beat Gilbert home that day—that his bus got delayed, that he decided to go to the gym with Erzse afterwards, whatever would serve to get him out of the house—and luckily it appeared his hoping had paid off, as the house was empty and quiet once he returned.

Roderich began to polish surfaces and sweep away dust as fast as his feet could carry him, fearing Basch’s critical judgement, and it seemed as though all would go according to plan until he heard the door open from behind him, two noisy sets of feet trampling through the hall.

“Bitch, I told you I could do it, and what did I do? Sorry, remind me, what did I do? IT,” Gilbert gloated, throwing his gym bag into the kitchen as if it were a basketball to dunk.

“Keep talking, Prussian,” Erzse rolled her eyes, her shorts riding up high on her waist as she brushed a polished finger across her face.

“What the hell are you two doing here!?” Roderich yelled, realizing a bit too late that his outburst was uncalled for.

“Well, according to you I live here, and she lives across the hall, so…” Gilbert trailed off, raising his eyebrows at the Austrian’s moodiness. “Hey, I benched 100 today, isn’t that insane!”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Roderich commented, continuing to sweep the kitchen. “Why don’t you go over to Erzse’s and hang out for a while?”

“Careful, you don’t want me to get to know him better than you do,” Erzse threw back at him, her face set in a cross manner.

Gilbert, ignoring them, countered, “Man, you’re not even paying attention to how awesome that is! Here, let me show you.” He walked over to Roderich, who was far too busy sweeping to care about the man’s presence, and grabbed him by the waist, lifting him into the air like a bag of potato chips.

“Put me down, Gilbert!” Roderich yelled as the broom hit the floor, his breath catching as Gilbert held him up with ease.

“I think I could bench you…how much do you weigh, 90 kilograms or so?”

“Don’t talk about my weight! Put me down at once!”

“You’re red in the face, _schatz_ ,” Gilbert laughed, his grip firm around Roderich as he began to swing him around gently. In the background, Erzse began snapping photos, unbeknownst to the two native German speakers.

At some point, Roderich stopped pleading to be set down and started laughing, relishing in the childlike feeling of being in Gilbert’s embrace. He was surprisingly gentle, not spinning him to the point of nausea, and even though it wasn’t needed he rested a hand in Gilbert’s silky hair to stabilize himself.

“What is going on?”

Gilbert stopped in his tracks as he turned to look at the foreign man lingering in the door, and before Erzse or Roderich could step in, he said, “Who the hell are you?”

“Basch, I’m so sorry,” Roderich said weakly, as Gilbert moved to set him down, the name ringing in his ears with some recollection.

“Sebastian.”

The blond man raised an eyebrow at his given name being spoken by the stranger, but he held his firm stance. “Yes, that is me. And you are?”

Roderich turned to look at Gilbert, who looked as though he had been stung by a wasp. He couldn’t tell what hurt more: that Roderich’s ex had been around this whole time—probably the source of the mysterious meetings he was always at—or that said man didn’t know who he was, making it seem as though Roderich had never mentioned him.

“Basch, it’s nice to see you again,” Erzse greeted him as a means to break the tension.

“Same to you, Erzsebet. Lili sends her greetings as well.”

“Basch, this is my friend Gilbert,” Roderich finally introduced shakily, pointing towards the man who looked frozen in place. “We all just got home, so we’re a bit all over the place, if you will.”

“I see that,” the Swiss man nodded, giving the apartment a once-over. “Well, your place looks the same as always, save for some new furniture. I don’t know why I bothered coming, anyway. You live in such an old part of town. You really should see my place, it’s much more modern. The elevator doesn’t creak.”

“I’ll have to do that sometime,” Roderich mused distantly, much more focused on Gilbert, who hadn’t so much as blinked during their lackluster exchange.

“I suppose I’ll get going then,” Basch coughed awkwardly, “but I’ll be seeing you soon enough. It was nice to see you again, Erzsebet…and nice to meet you, Gilbert.” With that he vanished from the doorway, leaving Erzse and Roderich to exchange nervous glances until they heard the sound of the elevator carrying him away.

“I have a headache, and I’m going to bed,” Gilbert announced suddenly, and before Roderich could move to stop him, his bedroom door was already slammed shut.

_Day 59_

That morning Gilbert had dressed, grabbed his cigarettes, and moved solidly, like a bullet, from his room to the front door. “I’m spending the day with Erzse,” he announced to Roderich as he passed the man at the kitchen table, and he didn’t stop for a moment to hear his reply.

He walked straight into Erzse’s apartment (more often than not she kept the door unlocked, he had learned) and was about to yell some obscene phrase to wake her up when he discovered her kneeling on her kitchen table, her hands a mess of glue and newspaper.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

She glanced over at him with twitching eyes, clearly having gotten no sleep the night before. “Art, what does it look like?”

“Well what are you making? It looks like the head of a penis.”

“God, Gilbert, do you have to be so blunt? It’s kind of supposed to be a heart, but multi-dimensional…clearly it’s not going well. It’s a work in progress. Why are you here?”

Gilbert sighed before throwing himself face first onto the couch. “Can I smoke in here?”

“Only if you give me one too.”

“Help yourself.” He rolled himself into a decent sitting position and lit a cigarette, doing the same for Erzse once she came over to join him.

Gilbert stared viciously at the ceiling, as if it had done him some personal wrong, before clenching his eyes shut tightly. “I know about that Sebastian…or, what did he call him…’Basch’? Some dumb cutesy nickname?”

“Do you now?”

“Ludwig told me. That they dated, or whatever…so what’s the deal with him now? They never really broke up, did they? All those…all those meetings, they’re just excuses, aren’t they?”

“Not so fast,” Erzse said, blowing out a near-perfect ring of smoke. “Gilbert, if you ever want to truly recover, you’re going to have to stop running away from what scares you.” She paused, waiting to see if he would take the bait, but he appeared clueless. “Talking about your feelings.”

“Fuck,” he spat out, tapping his ashes onto the coffee table, “I hate that shit.”

“I know. But I’m not going to tell you anything until you tell me what’s on your mind first.”

Gilbert scrunched his face up into an ugly pout, trying to fight the words before they came out. “Fine, you fuck. I have ~feelings~ for Roderich. There, are you happy?”

“Mildly satisfied,” she smiled. “Now, what do you want to know?”

“That Swiss motherfucker, and Roderich…are they…?”

“Not even a chance. They broke up after only a few months of dating, it was mutual, and then months later Basch wanted him back, but Roderich didn’t return the feelings. After they finished secondary Basch moved back to Basel for uni, but he never got over it, I think. He and Roderich stayed friends, of course, and right before you came into our lives they had been messaging a lot.”

Gilbert remained silent, watching the embers of his cigarette fade away.

“He’s very lonely,” Erzse said as she stubbed her cigarette out into a half-empty tea cup. “He really doesn’t like being alone. He has Ludwig and me and Basch, who he considers a friend and nothing more, but I think he wants more than that. He doesn’t sleep well in that big bed of his…he went on sleeping pills because of it.”

His cigarette descended into nothingness, and it entertained him a bit under the weight of his pounding heart.

“He’s so much happier now that you’re here. You can’t really tell because you didn’t spend time with him before, but I see it—you should’ve seen his face yesterday, before Basch came. And he’s very defensive of you. That’s the main reason he didn’t tell you about Basch…because Basch is very critical, and a little stuck up. He doesn’t understand why Roderich is letting you stay with him.”

The butt of the cigarette fell to the floor, and Gilbert’s fingers recoiled at the emptiness.

“I think you have a chance. With Roderich.”

At that, Gilbert laughed a little. “Are you kidding? He’s so perfect, and I’m an asshole. It’s like if Maria Theresa fell in love with a Prussian soldier.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. Listen, I want to help you.”

“What, help me ‘win’ him?”

“Yes! I’m not kidding. I know Roderich well, and I think if we work together we can get him to admit his feelings for you…”

“He doesn’t have feelings for me.”

“That’s what you think,” Erzse winked at him, and Gilbert rolled his eyes.

“Okay, fine, so we plot, but can I chill out here for the day then? I’m still in a weird place with him since yesterday.”

“Yes, good, give him time to think about things, an opportunity to make a confession…” Erzse said with a wicked smile, grabbing a notepad out of one of the couch cushions and beginning to take notes as if she were in a lecture class. Gilbert couldn’t tell whether to admire or be afraid of her planning skills, but for the meantime, it was a distraction from everything else, and she let him smoke in the house.

_Day 60_

The day had gone nearly the same as yesterday, with Gilbert spending most of the day at Erzse’s and Roderich burying himself in his work to distract himself, until around dinner time. The buzzer rang, giving Roderich a slight startle, and he hurried to the door to answer it. “Who is it?”

“It’s Ludwig. You weren’t answering your phone, so I figured I’d just show up…”

“Ludwig? What are you doing here?”

“We’re supposed to have dinner tonight, remember?”

Roderich froze, realizing he must have buried that text exchange somewhere between his obsessive thoughts on Gilbert and his piano composition. “Of course I remember! I’ll let you in.” He pressed the unlock button that allowed Ludwig into the building and rushed across the hall to Erzse’s, poking his head in to find Erzse still messing with her art sculpture while Gilbert was watching TV. “Gilbert! I forgot your brother wanted to go get dinner tonight, and he’s here. Come on, we need to go.”

It was the first real exchange they had since the Basch incident, but Gilbert decided in that moment not to argue, lifting himself from the sofa with only a small groan. “Yeah, yeah.” He ignored Erzse winking at him, waved a hand at her in a dismissive farewell, and followed the Austrian out the door.

\--

“So, how have you two been?”

Neither Roderich nor Gilbert jumped at the chance to answer Ludwig’s question, considering how the past few days had been going. Eventually, only in the interest of keeping the conversation moving, Roderich answered, “Just very busy with my concert piece, that’s all.”

Ludwig nodded, not noticing the weird tension, and taking another drink of his beer. “And you, Gilbert?”

“I’m tired,” his older brother complained, stifling a yawn as to prove his point.

“Well then, it seems like things are at least calm in the household. I’m glad you’re not bothering Roderich too much, _bruder_.”

Gilbert rolled his eyes, and Roderich began to hope that this wasn’t an excuse to lecture Gilbert about his future.

“Oh, that reminds me, Gilbert, do you remember our father’s name?”

The table turned deadly silent as both Roderich and Gilbert’s eyes widened simultaneously. “What?” was Gilbert’s quiet reply.

“Didn’t you hear me? I said—“

“Yes, Ludwig, I heard you loud and clear, but why in the hell do you want to know?”

“Roderich asked me a few weeks ago.”

Gilbert turned to glare coldly at the Austrian man sitting next to him, his eyes like lasers on Roderich’s snow white skin. He said nothing, but his stare said plenty, and Roderich knew that as soon as they got home, all hell would break loose. Every time he felt they were growing closer, something like this always came and broke them further apart.

\--

Gilbert hardly said anything for the rest of the dinner, and Roderich struggled to maintain a decent conversation with Ludwig, who had clearly picked up on his brother’s annoyance. The bus ride home was equally wordless, with Gilbert sitting in a different section of the bus entirely. It was just like their fight after the mall trip, except this time Roderich was even less certain of what would happen.

As soon as the lock of the front door clicked behind him, Roderich turned to see Gilbert standing in front of the kitchen table, away from Roderich’s concerned glance. Roderich didn’t know what to say to him, but Gilbert was keen to start yelling.

“What in the fuck were you thinking?!”

As he turned around to face the blank-faced Austrian, Gilbert waited only a few seconds for a response before deciding to continue. “You asked my brother about our father…why? Why would you do that? Did you not recall me saying earlier that he doesn’t remember, and he doesn’t need to remember?”

Roderich seemed to recover some of his strength as he countered, “Well, why not? Why doesn’t he need to remember?”

“None of your business. You should have just listened to me.”

“There’s something you’re not saying. Something you don’t want to say.”

“Roderich, I’m not in the fucking mood.”

“It’s about your father,” Roderich mused carefully, aware that he was treading into dangerous grounds. “Something happened with your father, in your past, that lead you to drugs.”

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!”

“I know that much, and that’s what I was trying to do, when I asked Ludwig…I want to know more about you, because I want to help you.”

“I don’t want your help! _Geh scheißen_!"

“Gilbert, there’s nothing malicious behind this!” Roderich pleaded, trying to calm the German, who looked as though he would lunge at him at any moment. “You know and I know that you hate dealing with things that are hard, but you’re never going to move forward if you don’t! I trust you, and I’ve shown you that, but you need to trust me, and get whatever’s on your mind, whatever’s haunting you, out into the open. You can’t run anymore.”

“Leave me alone,” Gilbert covered his ears as he spoke pitifully, turning on his heels to slam his bedroom door shut, even going as far as to move a piece of furniture in front of it, from what Roderich could tell. He sighed loudly, crashing against the wall and closing his eyes for a few moments, with no idea of where to go next.

\--

The house was awash with light this time, and although Gilbert should’ve found that comforting, it almost made it more eerie. All the windows were open, the curtains drawn wide, and he wondered if Ludwig managed to escape by himself. He ran into Ludwig’s bedroom, where the few toys he had were spread sparse, to peer out the open window, only to see his little brother’s tiny body spread onto the grass, his arm crooked in an unusual way—he had broken it on the way down.

“Oh my God, _bruder_!” Gilbert gasped aloud, turning rapidly to go and save him, before his petite wrist was forcefully grabbed by a gruff hand, belonging to that of his father. He couldn’t remember the man’s face in reality, and in his dreams it was no different—the face represented was just a composite of different nondescript features. Taken from the dozens of strangers he passed on the subway. Nothing was distinguishable, and as soon as he woke up it would be forgotten.

Wake up, that’s right, he had to wake up. He had to, before he was hurt again. He thrashed wildly in the man’s iron grip, and the man laughed in response, watching his child as if he were at play. With one move of his hand he snapped Gilbert’s wrist, and the thick pop that permeated the air made Gilbert release a hissing sound.

“Ow, ow, _Vati_ , stop,” he begged helplessly, the pain searing through his arm, but his father reached behind him and pulled out a hammer, hidden from view. Wordlessly, he led Gilbert over to the nightstand by the window, lifting his limp wrist to the table’s surface as Gilbert cried and peered out once more at his lifeless brother.

“ _Vati_ , Ludwig’s dead,” he sobbed, but his father didn’t listen, lifting the hammer and beginning to smash Gilbert’s fingers as if they were ants waiting to be squished. “Stop, stop, stop,” the boy implored, but the violence continued, and Gilbert was left to watch as his fingers popped off from his hand, like they were slices of carrots, his body glued to the floor. “Stop, stop, stop!”

“Stop, stop, stop!”

“Gilbert, wake up!”

Gilbert found himself upright in bed, his face fixed in confusion as he struggled to breathe. It took a few seconds to register the pounding on his door, and he almost fell out of bed to get over to it, pushing the desk he had previously put in front of it away so he could open it. His wild eyes fell on Roderich, standing in his pajamas with messy hair and an extremely concerned face. “Gilbert, what’s the matter? You were yelling ‘stop’ in your sleep!”

Gilbert took a few uneasy breaths, his eyes burning, and his hand throbbing, the memory of his dream tailing close behind.

Roderich tilted his head as Gilbert gave no answer, asking softly, “What happened, _schatzchen_?”

Gilbert felt the tears finally give way as he pushed himself into Roderich’s arms, his face coming to rest in the Austrian’s baby soft pajama shirt. He hoped the fabric would muffle his gasping sobs as he gripped on tightly, and to his surprise he felt Roderich’s arms wrap comfortingly around him, in a tight but not overwhelming embrace.

They stayed locked together for a few moments, until Gilbert had forced himself to cry silently, catching his breath once more. He pulled away from Roderich and glanced down the hallway, unaware that the light from the window was illuminating the tears on his cheeks.

Roderich used the sleeve of his shirt to dab softly at Gilbert’s face, his other hand resting gently on Gilbert’s shoulder. “You aren’t sleeping well,” he whispered, hoping his tone would calm him.

“I’m so fucked up,” was all Gilbert could mumble in reply, his voice cloudy.

“Come sleep in my bed tonight,” Roderich offered, unaware to how he would take the suggestion. “I think you’ll sleep better if you know someone’s beside you. I promise you, you’re safe here.”

Gilbert sniffled and nodded lightly, too exhausted to put up any sort of resistance. They walked in silence down the hallway, and curled into their respective sides of the bed, not facing or touching each other, but for the first time in a while, not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> geh scheißen is the Austrian 'fuck off'. If anything, Roderich's probably impressed he's talking with that dialect.
> 
> I forgot to mention, the last two chapters are just mini epilogues. Next chapter should be up within a week or two.


	3. 61-90

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another trigger warning for past child abuse mentions, although much less than in the last chapter.  
> Um, this story is over?? I can't believe I finished it. There are still the mini-epilogues to look forward to, and they'll be up in the next few days. Thank you for reading!

_Day 61_

For the first time in years, Gilbert woke up feeling well-rested. He lingered on the feeling for a few moments more, not wanting it to end, before the unfamiliarity of the situation startled him enough to open his eyes. All he saw was a sea of mauve, wrinkled in various places, and he then realized he was enveloped in the satiny sheets of Roderich’s bed.

Noting that Roderich was nowhere to be found, Gilbert ran a hand through his hair and stretched, letting his feet slowly hit the ground as he rolled out of bed. He walked hesitantly out into the living room to find Roderich seated at the kitchen table, the same as always, eating breakfast and reading the newspaper. “Good morning,” he greeted casually.

“Hi,” Gilbert replied, taking a seat across from him. He sat without moving for a few moments, his brain trying to catch up after such a good night of sleep, before he nearly jumped out of the chair and ran into his bedroom. “Aw fuck, it’s Monday!”

“I called in for you,” Roderich replied, not bothering to look up from his paper, as Gilbert dumbfoundedly walked back into the hall. “I figured you needed the sleep. Your boss was understanding.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.” He joined Roderich at the table once more and poured himself a cup of coffee, starting to remember everything that had happened the day before: Basch, Ludwig, their fight…his nightmare. And then they shared a bed together. How could so much happen in such a small amount of time?

Roderich was silent himself, his attention devoted to an article on a new community garden, and it took Gilbert a few seconds to realize why. “You want me to start talking.”

“Yes,” Roderich nodded, turning the page and grimacing as he ripped a bit of the corner.

“Well I…I can’t.”

“Gilbert—“

“I can’t, when you’re facing me like this! It’s too direct, too confrontational! I feel like, really vulnerable. Like it’s therapy or something or you’re a creepy doctor.”

Roderich glanced at him, wondering if he was making some sort of lame excuse, but the man appeared to be sincere. Taking this into account, he stood suddenly, grabbing his chair and placing it behind Gilbert’s, sitting so that his back was to him. “How’s this?”

Gilbert thought it was a bit unnecessary, but at the same time it fixed one of his issues, so he felt no reason to complain. “Better,” he started shakily, suddenly feeling as though he was going to vomit. “Um…Roderich…I can’t do this all at once. It’s…it’s too hard. I can’t deal with it all at once.”

“That’s okay,” Roderich said in a soothing tone of voice, his genuine concern throwing Gilbert off guard. “One day at a time. Whatever you can do.”

Gilbert tapped his foot nervously against the floor, unsure of where or how to start. He figured it might be best to just go from what Roderich had seen, to give him some sort of explanation. “The nightmares. I’ve had them…pretty much forever. Heroin and drugs usually dulled them a lot. And since I’ve quit they’ve been back in full force, it seems.”

Roderich didn’t say anything, but Gilbert knew he had his full attention, and he was just trying to listen without making any comments. Groaning a bit as he struggled to admit to himself what he was about to say, he stammered, “And, uh, sleeping, especially lately, has been hard. Last night I slept so well, it was almost unreal…”

“You can sleep in my bed with me from now on.”

Gilbert was secretly relieved Roderich said it so he didn’t have to ask, and he smiled from the privacy of not being watched. “Oh, okay, thanks.”

Unbeknownst to him, Roderich was smiling too. “Anytime,” he said, and although that was as much as Gilbert chose to divulge that day, he could feel the start of something positive beginning.

_Day 62_

Roderich met Ludwig for coffee after a series of texts from the worried man about his brother, after their dinner ended on such a sour note a few nights before.

“He’s okay. He’s just starting to come to terms with some stuff from the past, and he hasn’t been sleeping well, so he wasn’t in a good mood that night,” Roderich assured his friend, who didn’t seem entirely convinced based on his look.

“Is he doing better now?”

“Yes, a little. I think it’s going to take some time, but you know he didn’t start using drugs for no reason. There was something behind it all.”

“I don’t know. He’s pretty reckless.”

“Ludwig, you said yourself you remembered him as responsible before it all happened,” Roderich countered, raising an eyebrow at the man’s doubtfulness. “I have to be honest with you here, and I’m not trying to be rude, but if you want Gilbert to succeed, you’re going to need to believe in him a little more than you do.”

Ludwig was a bit shocked at Roderich’s harsh words, but had no time to react as Basch approached their table carefully, reading the somewhat tense tone with apprehension. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Of course not,” Roderich replied as he took a sip of his tea.

“Well, good. I haven’t heard from you in a few days, Roderich, so I’m glad to see you alive.”

“Just busy, as always.”

Ludwig couldn’t help but blurt out, “Have you met Gilbert, Basch?”

The two non-Germans stared in confusion for a moment before Basch coughed and answered, “Yes, just last week. I didn’t know you had an older brother. From what I understand, he seems nothing like you.”

“Generally, I would agree with that,” Ludwig sighed in response, and Roderich found himself becoming annoyed with their light badmouthing of a man who wasn’t even present.

“On that note, I have to leave. Nice seeing you both,” he said abruptly, throwing some cash onto the table to pay for his share of the bill before storming off. Ludwig and Basch exchanged looks, but neither seemed to be able to account for the sudden changes in their Austrian friend’s behavior.

\--

After dinner they repeated the process from yesterday, sitting back to back in Roderich’s version of friendly therapy. He could see how anxious Gilbert got, tapping his foot against the floor and refusing to make any sort of eye contact throughout the night, but at least he understood that it was a necessary part of the recovery process. Whatever demons he was hiding weren’t going anywhere until he at least faced them head-on.

That night Gilbert was just too scared—he bit onto his lower lip so hard, he tore the thin skin open—and he didn’t say anything. “You’re doing your best,” Roderich assured him, patting him gently on the shoulder, leaving Gilbert to go sulk over a cigarette on the balcony. A part of him was worried that he may be pushing him too hard, and it could have dire consequences—but he at least had the assurance that Gilbert was sleeping better, as he watched him peacefully drift off every night, seemingly tranquil in Roderich’s own bed. And secretly, now that Gilbert was by his side, Roderich was sleeping better too.

_Day 63_

A crumpled-up piece of papier-mache, a failed section of Erzse’s project, was now serving as Gilbert’s latest toy, as he threw it up in the air while the Hungarian talked.

“We have to devise a plan,” she announced, once more taking notes, this time with a colored pencil she found under the sofa. “The question: how do we get you to win Roderich’s heart?”

“Change everything about me?” Gilbert joked weakly, wincing as the makeshift ball hit him between the eyes.

“Hush,” she warned, “focus on what’s important. What does Roderich like?”

“Chocolate. Food in general, really. Being told how great he is at everything. Fancy ass shit. Vienna.”

“Good, good observations. That’s all you should do, then, is all of those things.”

Gilbert scoffed and rolled into a sitting position, looking at her incredulously. “Yeah, good idea Erzse, let me just whisk him away to Vienna for the weekend, see an opera, eat out every night, tell him he’s a good piano player while I fuck his brains out under the stars. My budget of 100 euros will cut it, definitely.”

Erzse rolled her eyes at his crass language and shook her head, her hair bouncing along to the movement. “You’re not thinking about it from the right perspective. You don’t have to take him to Vienna, you can bring Vienna to him. And he doesn’t need the world’s most expensive chocolates to be happy, and frankly I don’t think he would enjoy having sex outside anyway.”

Gilbert nodded grudgingly as he leaned against one side of the sofa, his face set in a mild frown. “Man, I’m not good at being romantic. I’m gonna blow it.”

“I believe in you,” Erzse winked at him, ignoring his lousy groan and continuing, “Now, let’s go over proper flirting techniques, shall we?”

_Day 64_

Another evening spent back to back, silent aside from a few weak jokes from Gilbert, seemed to be drawing to an end, without any new information being revealed. Roderich was firm in not pushing Gilbert to say more than he felt able to, so he was content with the silence, even finding it a bit calming to sit with Gilbert each night and just relax. He figured they would stay like that for a few moments more before calling it a night, before Gilbert suddenly broke the silence with a harrowing comment:

“Ludwig has amnesia.”

Roderich felt a bit taken aback. “What?”

“At least, that’s what they—the doctors—think. Or thought. Whatever. Traumatic brain injury, they called it. At first just a concussion, but it became really obvious weeks later, when you would ask him questions and he didn’t know the answers…either that or it’s a mental thing. Like he repressed them. I don’t know which, honestly. Maybe both.”

Roderich was immediately alarmed by the admission, but he reminded himself to be calm and not to overstep his bounds. “I see.”

“So, anything you try and ask him, he doesn’t have a good answer. I think it confuses him that he doesn’t know anything, which worries me, because I don’t want him to go digging for answers. I think I’m going to have to tell him one day…but I worry about that day, because, fuck, look at me, I can barely tell you, how am I supposed to tell him?”

Roderich noticed as Gilbert’s voice turned unsteady, and he wanted so badly to turn around and embrace him.

“I don’t want him to suffer like I did. He’s all I have.” Gilbert stopped abruptly, taking in a deep, staggered breath. “I’m going to go to bed now, if that’s okay.”

“Of course. I’ll join you shortly.”

With that, Gilbert stood, quietly set his chair back at the table, and retreated into the bedroom they now shared, his hollow footsteps down the hallway leaving deep imprints on Roderich’s mind.

_Day 65_

Gilbert sat nervously at the table that morning, spinning his spoon and trying to see how fast it would go, for a number of reasons. Of course he was still anxious about the previous night, having opened up about his past for truly the first time, and a part of him was worried Roderich would go to Ludwig about it, although he knew the Austrian wasn’t going to go behind his back like that. He trusted Gilbert. At least, he hoped.

If that wasn’t enough, Erzse had drilled him to initiate his plan that morning, much to his chagrin. He knew he looked nervous, which wasn’t going to help him attempt to be suave in the slightest. He could flirt perfectly when it wasn’t planned out, but now his hands felt clammy and his throat felt dry and he wasn’t sure if he could mutter a good morning greeting to his Austrian companion.

As soon as Roderich did finally emerge from his bathroom, smelling a bit like hairspray and appearing frazzled as always, he grabbed an apple from his fruit bowl and swung his bag over his shoulder. “Slept too late again. I’ve got to get going.”

“You always sleep too late,” Gilbert laughed a bit uneasily, which caught Roderich’s attention.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Well, I, uh…felt a bit nauseous when you walked in, because, you look so good today?”

“What?” Roderich laughed a bit, giving himself a quick once-over. “I look the same as always.”

“Well, you’re particularly handsome today, alright? So much so I felt like pointing it out.”

Roderich laughed again, a bit flustered by the uncharacteristic greeting, unsure of what to make of it. “Well, um, thank you. Have a nice day at work, Gilbert,” he finally responded, turning away and touching his cheeks to see if they felt as warm as he thought.

As soon as he left, Gilbert let his head fall onto the table, mumbling under his breath, “I am an idiot.”

_Day 66_

Once Roderich returned home from the synagogue that afternoon, Erzse had insisted on having him for tea, tempting him with her sister’s homemade kaiserschmarrn she had brought leftovers of from a quick trip to Budapest. Although their relationship had been a bit shaky as of late—after the weird tension surrounding Gilbert, and what happened with Basch—Roderich felt a bit guilty over his potentially irrational feelings, and he accepted the request with genuine interest.

“So,” Erzse started, pouring blueberry compote all over her dessert, “your concert is coming up soon. Are you nervous?”

“Of course, but I’m usually more nervous once it gets closer to the date. I know it’s coming up, but soon it’ll really feel…real, I guess.”

“I understand. Out of curiosity, do you get any free tickets to give to people?”

“I get two,” he said between a mouthful of pancakes, “so of course I’m going to invite you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh, I’d be so honored,” she blushed, “but who else will you invite?”

“I’m not sure…”

“I think you must invite Gilbert.”

Roderich glanced at her with apprehension, wondering if this was her true motive behind inviting him over. “Oh?”

“You know how much it would mean to him to see you play. You never play for him! And he would feel so honored getting to go to such a fancy concert. I think it would lift his self-esteem a lot, too.”

Roderich’s mind began spinning, putting together the pieces: he had been right all along. Erzse and Gilbert were pining hard for each other, right in front of him, and now she had the gall to ask that their first public date was his big night. How gullible did Erzse take him for?

He couldn’t let on that he knew in front of her, especially not with his favorite food in front of him, so he smiled and politely nodded, “You have a point. In fact, I think I will invite him.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Erzse grinned back, pleased that her plan to get Roderich and Gilbert together was going so seamlessly—a romantic night in the Munich Symphony would surely be the final push needed to get them coupled up, and she would be there to see it all unfold.

_Day 67_

The next part of the plan required a few hours of Gilbert’s time, so he was glad that Roderich was going to be busy with symphony related errands that afternoon, even as it struck him he could be spending time with Basch. He buried the thoughts and got busy, getting into character by donning a pair of ridiculous bright yellow latex gloves, and set to deep cleaning the house.

Roderich loved a clean space, and lately he hadn’t been able to devote as much time to the upkeep, as he spent hours in his university’s music practice rooms, or at meetings, or in class. He always made time for dinner of course, and their recent talking-ritual, which Gilbert despised but adhered to anyway, mostly because he begrudgingly admitted Roderich was onto something. Now that heroin was really, truly gone from his life, he had nothing else to turn to when those bad memories came back. Like Roderich had said, he couldn’t run anymore.

He thought a lot about what would happen when the 90 days were up, and, given the date on the calendar, he noticed it was quite soon. He assumed he would go back to living with Ludwig, but he didn’t really want to—living with Roderich wasn’t just more fun, it was also probably a whole lot better for him, as evidenced by the progress he had made. Going back to Ludwig’s he would at least have his job, but without Roderich to constantly bother he would probably start drinking heavily again, and going out all the time, and it couldn’t be long before he got back into drugs. He supposed he could always try and hang out with Roderich, but wouldn’t it be weird to ask? After all, he was Ludwig’s friend, not his. Were they friends? They seemed to blur the boundaries of friends, roommates, and if Gilbert had his way shortly, lovers. All of it, combined with the smell of bleach as he scrubbed the bathtub, was giving him a major headache. He rinsed the tub out quickly and decided to do more dusting, which would at least be easier on his head, he hoped.

\--

Once Roderich returned later in the afternoon, rubbing his fingers tenderly from another day of over-exertion at the piano, he sniffed the air a bit suspiciously and looked to the window of the balcony, where Gilbert was out smoking a cigarette. He crossed the living room and tapped gently on the glass, catching the German’s attention as he poked his head through the door.

“What’s up, _prinzessin_?”

“Gilbert, why does the house smell like…like, clean?”

“Like clean? Did you forget how to speak German on your way home?”

“Shut up, fool. Answer the question.”

“Because,” Gilbert started, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray before gliding into the living room, “I cleaned today.”

Roderich must have looked a bit astounded, so Gilbert stepped in to explain. “I know you’ve been busy, so I decided to clean the house. What, why do you look so offended? I do live here rent free, it’s the least I can do!”

After a few moments Roderich broke into a warm smile, looking over at his sparkling living room with a sense of peace. “Thank you, Gilbert. It was so thoughtful of you. I feel so much better when things are in good order.”

Gilbert smiled back, reaching up to ruffle the Austrian’s hair, despite being immediately pushed away. “Aw, you’re so cute when you’re genuinely polite.”

“Hush! I’m always polite, and I’m not cute!”

After the slightly miserable attempt at step 1, step 2 of the plan was an immediate success. He couldn’t wait to report back to Erzse.

_Day 68_

“I didn’t know my mother very well.”

The confession came during their nightly talks after a takeout doner kebab dinner, as neither felt in the mood to cook. Roderich, full up from the meal, was sitting lazily in his chair behind Gilbert when his words caused him to straighten his posture, as it was the first time Gilbert had said anything during their sessions since his admission about Ludwig.

“My dad was married to Ludwig’s _Mutti_ for a few months, and then I was born. I don’t ever know how she felt about having to raise another woman’s child, but I don’t think she hated me. She was sick a lot, I remember that, as a child. But she took care of me. My mom, I think when I was born, she called my dad from the hospital, and he came and she just handed me over. I asked _Vati_ later, why she wasn’t my _Mutti_ , and he said she didn’t want me.”

Roderich;s lower lip quivered a bit, but he remained silent, doing his best to listen.

“Ludwig was born when I was about four, and his mother passed away a few months after that. I don’t know why. I don’t remember, never found out. Do you want my guess? She probably killed herself. You know, maybe she didn’t even die, maybe she just ran off. Who the hell knows.”

“What happened to…” Roderich started before he could stop himself.

“My mother? She died too, but a bit later. I actually did go see her a few times. She lived in this gross little trailer, there were lots of bugs. I hated being there. And she was always out of it, really high or whatever. And eventually my father stopped bringing me, and when I asked why he just said she had died.” He stopped for a second and laughed weakly. “I don’t know, man. My family’s just so fucked up. I prayed to God that Ludwig would turn out okay and luckily he did. But I want to know what that’s like, to have that perfect family. Like you did.”

Roderich shook his head a bit, regretfully mumbling, “Things aren’t always what they seem.”

“How so?”

“I don’t want to distract from your story, this is your time—“

“Man, I wanna hear about you for once. It sucks ass having to talk about my worst memories all the time, why don’t you butt in?”

Roderich sighed but obliged, replying, “My father was almost thirty years older than my mother. It was a marriage of convenience. And I was raised almost entirely by nannies. So we posed nicely for pictures, but there was a lot that went unseen. In that big mansion…I was so alone.”

“I guess the grass isn’t always greener,” Gilbert yawned a bit, leaning forward in his chair. “You ready for bed?”

Roderich smiled a bit, realizing that it was getting a bit easier for Gilbert to open up. Finally, progress. “Of course.”

_Day 69_

“Your squats are looking much better,” Erzse commented from the wall, twirling a strand of hair in her nimble fingers as she watched him.

“Duh,” Gilbert replied breathlessly, his focus on his form as he studied himself in the mirror, “I’m awesome.”

“Sure you are.”

Racking the weights after he was satisfied, he joined Erzse on the wall as he grabbed for his water bottle. “It’s like I turned my whole life around. Like, I was hot before, but now, with my muscles back? How can the ladies even keep themselves off me?”

“Speaking of, how’s your lady?”

“He’s okay. He’s stressed as shit, I think. He spends all day either at class or in the music rooms at his school, practicing his piece. I feel like the only level of acceptable performance for him is being able to play it blindfolded or somethin’. You know he’s only played in front of me a few times? That was when I first moved in. Now he wouldn’t dare. Maybe for a few minutes when I’m out smoking, but as soon as I come back in he stops.”

“I wonder why that is. He’s never been nervous to play in front of anyone before…” Erzse pondered, her mood suddenly shifting once she remembered her last talk with Roderich. “But no matter! We spoke a few days ago, and he’s going to invite you to his concert!”

“Why me?” Gilbert scoffed, wiping some sweat from his face while grimacing. “I’m not gonna fit in at the fucking symphony. What would I wear, my jeans with only a few holes in them?”

“I’m sure he’ll figure out something for you to wear. But you’re missing the point! That’s where you make your big move!”

“My big move?”

“Where you confess your feelings for him and kiss him under the moonlight! Come on Gilbert, I can’t do all the thinking for you.”

“Aw man, that’s like two weeks away!”

“Don’t worry, just stick to the plan, and everything will work just fine! By the time all the steps are carried out, he’ll be head over heels for you, I’m sure!”

Gilbert sighed and rested his head against the wall, wondering if Erzse’s plan would really work after all. He was reminded suddenly of the night he went out with Francis and Antonio, and Roderich, although drunk, made a move for him; did it really come out of nowhere, or was Roderich hiding his feelings too? In a few weeks, perhaps he would find out.

_Day 70_

Another day of work ended, and Gilbert once more found himself alone as he returned home, with Roderich most likely out until night time practicing. Even though he expected it, he still felt a bit glum; being alone was no fun, with no one to bother or annoy. At least it gave him plenty of time and the perfect conditions to enact his next plan into action, he conceded.

He relaxed for a while before setting up around eight at night, knowing it would still be a good hour before the Austrian waltzed through the door. Sure enough, a little after nine, Roderich tiredly let his belongings drop to the floor once he walked inside, glancing at his watch and frowning at the time. “Ugh, I’ve got to get to bed.”

“Oh, sure,” Gilbert nodded from the sofa, watching TV and trying to hide his smile. “Just brush your teeth first.”

Roderich actually laughed at his unusual suggestion, barely having enough energy to question it. “What, exactly, are you talking about?”

“Just reminding you to maintain your basic hygiene, jeez,” Gilbert said with a fake roll of his eyes.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, and I don’t care,” Roderich sighed, massaging his temple as he continued down the hall into his room. Gilbert couldn’t stifle his giggles as he waited excitedly until, as expected, Roderich yelled, “What the hell is this?”

Rushing into the master bathroom, Gilbert laughed brightly as he examined Roderich’s stunned expression. A full bath, complete with rose petals (Gilbert couldn’t believe Roderich actually had them in his bathroom cabinet, but then he remembered the type of person Roderich was), was drawn with fresh, steaming water, complete with a glass of wine and Roderich’s latest read on Empress Sisi at its side.

“What did…did you do this?” Roderich asked meekly.

Chortling still, Gilbert nodded, “Either it was me or the fairies did it, so you take your pick.”

Turning to look at his German roommate, his face a mix of utter exasperation and gratitude, Roderich tilted his head gently to the side and smiled sweetly. “I…I don’t understand why, but thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” Gilbert shrugged, leaning against the wall casually. “I see how stressed out you are, and you just need a second to like, relax. So I’m going to go watch TV, and you chill out with your book, or whatever.”

Roderich reached up to begin unbuttoning his shirt, drawing in Gilbert’s attention in a matter of seconds. Oblivious to his stare, Roderich chided, “See, you do have a good side. It’s just hard for you to show it.”

“Yeah…” Gilbert mumbled distractedly, relishing in the peak of Roderich’s white peach-toned skin just below his collarbone, before snapping out of it and remembering they weren’t at _that_ level just yet. “Okay, have fun.” He turned abruptly and headed for the living room, nearly crashing face-first into the wall on his way out. _Smooth,_ he thought to himself.

_Day 71_

As they sat together that evening, Roderich noticed Gilbert kept coughing slightly, as if trying to clear something lodged deep in his chest. Eventually, he grew concerned enough to ask, “Do you want some water?”

A bit hesitantly, Gilbert responded, “Okay.”

As Roderich moved to the faucet, Gilbert mumbled something he couldn’t hear. “What was that?”

“My grandfather.”

Roderich brought him the glass and sat back down, feeling a bit more at ease when he heard the sound of Gilbert drinking. “What about him?”

With a loud swallow, Gilbert set the glass down and started, “We moved in with him. Ludwig and I, after…after Ludwig’s head incident.”

Gilbert seemed especially nervous tonight, but Roderich remained silent.

“Um…I guess that was like, the final straw, for the cops. Nothing that ever happened to me, but the big thing that happened to Ludwig. It was usually just me, and I was good at hiding it, at school, you know…but Ludwig really couldn’t. I mean, if it wasn’t the doctors who reported it, then it was his teachers. His memory loss was so rapid, you knew something was wrong. But…so we moved in with _Opa_. Ludwig’s mom’s dad. He had no obligation to take me but I think somewhere in between the mounds of paperwork and legal crap I slipped through and just followed Lud over there. Which, as it turned out, was for the better.”

Roderich was a bit confused by the details, which seemed to be lacking in specifics, but if Gilbert didn’t want to tell him more, he would leave it be.

“I guess I always felt weird about it since I wasn’t really his grandson. And in all honesty, he was in no place to take care of us. He wasn’t in good health, I think he had dementia, all those things. So it was still mostly me caring for Ludwig, feeding him, sending him to school…I was driving before I had a license so I could take him places. And I think, mentally, I was really fucked up…the nightmares and stuff, and I was super jumpy, really irritable, couldn’t concentrate. And eventually it got to a point where I thought it would be better to drop out and work instead of living off this poor old guy’s pension. So that’s what I did. I worked a lot. I thought it would distract my tormented mind, but it didn’t always…and that’s what drugs did.”

Roderich felt a bit helpless sitting behind Gilbert, racking his brain to come up with some sort of a solution. “I…I know you may be a little opposed to this, but…have you ever considered talking to a psychiatrist, or a therapist, or someone?”

Gilbert instantly groaned, tossing his head back and knocking gently against Roderich’s own. “Aw fuck, man, I hate those guys. I hate all of that shit.”

“I know you do, and I’m not saying you have to soon, or even at all, but something like medication or therapy might really help you. I’ve been just to the GP’s office, and it helped me tremendously.”

“Wait, you have?”

“Well…yes. Do you remember, how I told you about how I don’t like to be alone? When I moved in here, after living with Ludwig in gymnasium, it was really hard for me, and I wasn’t sleeping well. Too anxious, too stimulated, problems like that. I hated how lonely the apartment felt. So a doctor worked with me through some natural remedies, and when that didn’t work he prescribed sleeping pills, and now I sleep just fine.”

“Oh, those are what you gave me when you kidnapped me, right?”

Roderich rolled his eyes at Gilbert’s sarcastic nature rearing its ugly head during such a serious moment. “Yes, thank you for reminding me of that.”

Gilbert blinked for a few moments, his mind stuck on a question he wasn’t sure if he should ask. “Have you been taking them recently?”

“Ah…no, actually. Recently, I’ve felt okay without them, and I’ve been sleeping okay.”

“Is it because I’m here?”

Roderich felt his face heat up rapidly, but the few seconds of silence he let pass before answering basically gave it away. “Yes. I think so.”

They went to bed soon after that. Maybe he was just imagining things, but Roderich could have sworn he felt Gilbert move closer to him during the night.

_Day 72_

Between practicing and school work, Roderich managed to find time to scarf down a salad he had picked up from a café. As he ate with mild disgust—the lettuce was a bit rubbery for his taste—he found himself lost in thought. Gilbert, he repeated in his mind. _Gilbert_.

Somewhere along the line, things had really changed. He went from loathing the man to tolerating him to apparently now feeling a bit lovestruck over him. There was something wrong with it, really—not that he had fallen for a man, as he had clearly accepted that part of himself, but that he had fallen for someone like Gilbert. They were so different, in backgrounds, in music tastes, in German dialects…not to mention Gilbert was everything Roderich hated, with his personality and sense of humor. But somehow he looked past all of it, and here they were.

He found himself constantly fighting the urge to pull Gilbert close to him, both in his sleep and in every day moments like when they were washing dishes or going on walks in the park. He was aching every time Gilbert revealed some new, dreadful detail about his past, wanting nothing more than to comfort him. He just wanted to be close to him, closer than he already was, so that he could feel Gilbert’s thin strands of choppy hair tickle his face, or feel his rough hands move slowly up his waist, or feel his thin lips press gently against his own.

He let the plastic fork fall into his half-eaten salad as he let out a small breath. But then there was Erzse, he was reminded, whose passion for Gilbert didn’t seem to be one-sided. Before it got to him—before the feeling of hurt began to burn its way through his chest—he tossed the salad container aside and got back to practicing. That was enough feeling for today.

_Day 73_

They spent that Saturday well—a trip to the grocery store, lunch in the park, and then watching some TV. Gilbert had managed to convince Roderich to take a break from the practicing for the day, even with the concert a week away—for some reason, he didn’t have to fight as hard with him this time.

Roderich expected the peaceful atmosphere to continue into the night, and he even considered offering a break from their nightly talks, before Gilbert interrupted him as he was collecting the dishes. “You know what happened to me, don’t you?”

Roderich paused, tightening his grip on the plates in his hand. “What?”

Gilbert almost looked a bit shameful as he glanced down intently at the tablecloth. “Have you put the pieces together?”

Roderich ignored him for a moment to set the plates down in the sink, figuring they could wait until later. “No, not completely. But I have an idea.”

“I don’t want to say it, because I feel like if I do, then it becomes real. But it was real, and I have to say it.”

“Take your time.”

Gilbert blinked, biting down on his lower lip. “My dad…he abused me. A lot.”

Roderich frowned, whispering gently, “Oh, Gilbert.”

Shaking his head, he continued, “I hate that fucker. He got a bullshit sentence for what he did and then he went and died a year later. I hate him. I hate him! I fucking hate him!”

Even though he was startled by his yelling, Roderich didn’t tell him to stop, figuring it was beneficial for him to let it out. He watched Gilbert carefully, as the man appeared ready to explode at any second, but then he deflated like a day-old party balloon and sunk into the chair, letting his face rest on the table. His breathing became labored and heavy, and Roderich rushed to his side in a moment of panic.

“Gilbert, it’s alright, everything’s okay,” he said soothingly, draping an arm across Gilbert’s back and resting his head on the German’s shoulder. “You’re safe here. I promised you that, and I won’t go back on that promise.”

Although his breaths came back to him after another minute or two, Gilbert began to tremble a bit, his fingers gripping the table harshly. He hadn’t said anything, which concerned Roderich the most.

“Do you want to go lie down?”

He didn’t answer, but Roderich guessed that it couldn’t hurt, so he helped him up and wordlessly moved with him to the bedroom. Gilbert collapsed into the silken sheets, burying his head under them before Roderich could say anymore. He stood by Gilbert’s side for a few moments, lightly stroking his back, afraid that his memories would haunt his sleep throughout the night; luckily, he was quiet.

_Day 74_

Gilbert didn’t follow Roderich to breakfast that morning, something he always did within fifteen or so minutes of the Austrian waking up. He poked his head back into the bedroom to find the sheets pulled over Gilbert’s head, and he approached lightly, trying not to make much noise. “Gilbert? Are you okay?”

“I have a headache,” came the gruff reply, the sheets tightening under his iron grip.

Roderich worried over him, wondering if the previous night’s revelations had a sour effect on his mental health. He sensed that the German wasn’t in the mood to talk, and slipped out quietly afterwards, hoping that a day of rest would help him heal.

That day, the house was quiet.

_Day 75_

Gilbert woke up early that morning, sneaking out of bed before Roderich had woken up. Once the Austrian had noticed, he tried to assume that Gilbert had just gone to work, but some part of him considered that Gilbert, not able to handle the emotional stress, had fled to go buy drugs. Even two and a half months later, despite all of his life changes, he was sure the man still craved opiates like no other, and it wouldn’t take much to set him off into using again. Of course, he had no way of knowing until the work day was over, so he pushed himself to believe the optimistic route and went on with his day.

\--

“How are you feeling?” Basch asked him, looking uninterested, although Roderich knew that was never the case. If he truly didn’t care, he wouldn’t have asked.

“Not as nervous as I thought I would be,” Roderich replied in between bites of salad, a food he loathed but kept up on to stay healthy before the big day. “I’m sure by Thursday I’ll be feeling the pressure.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be good enough,” his Swiss companion shrugged, looking off distantly after having long finished his food.

Clearing his throat a bit, Roderich reached into his pocket and pulled out the stub of paper that had prompted him to invite Basch to lunch in the first place. “Well, I wanted to know, if you would accompany me to the concert? With Erzse too, of course.”

Basch’s eyes widened a bit once he saw the ticket, and he looked at Roderich a bit incredulously. “You know I get in for free already, right? You don’t need to invite me.”

“Of course I know that, but I’m inviting you as my friend. It’s a gesture of kindness, if you will.”

Basch looked as though he was a bit speechless as he reached across the table to take the ticket, his fingers lightly brushing Roderich’s in an electric move. “Well…thanks, I guess. Should I meet you at yours, then, Saturday night?”

Roderich nodded, feeling a bit uncomfortable under Basch’s intense gaze. “Yes, of course.”

He tried not to think about Gilbert, but in that moment, he was failing.

\--

When Roderich finally returned to his apartment after the lunch with Basch, arms full of groceries, he hesitated at the door knob, saying a quick prayer to himself that he would find Gilbert inside. He turned the knob slowly, in mild apprehension, and found Gilbert sprawled on the sofa, beer in hand, watching a dubbed-over American sitcom.

“Hey, _prinzessin_ ,” he mumbled, his eyes half-lidded and his hair a bit messy.

“Hello, Gilbert,” Roderich replied, setting his grocery bags on the kitchen counter before moving to kick off his shoes. “You were up early this morning.”

“Yeah,” he said a bit distantly, yawning as if to illustrate his point. “Couldn’t sleep anymore, I figured I’d just get there early and start working. Any time without Ivan lurking over me is golden, after all.”

Roderich sensed he wasn’t in any sort of mood to talk about how he was feeling, and he decided for once to let the subject go, figuring he could use a break before he was pushed too far. He was just happy to see him home, and not strung out or unconscious instead.

_Day 76_

If he was being honest with himself, he really wasn’t feeling that great. After that night where he admitted to Roderich the truth about his horrid upbringing, Gilbert felt drained, emotionally and physically, and he was desperately trying to ward off the memories that were coming back to him. This time he didn’t have the protection of fuzzy dreams with unclear details—things were coming back vividly, from the smell of the run-down dishwasher to the texture of the filthy carpet. He could see the posts of Ludwig’s bed, his father’s mustache, the cracked mirror in the bathroom, all over again, fresh in his mind and taking control of his thoughts. He was practically useless at work, making obvious spelling errors and struggling to focus, and he was only hoping that his colleagues weren’t noticing him inwardly starting to crumble.

He was also keen not to let on to Roderich at all, whose stress over his upcoming concert was certainly mounting. The last thing he needed was to deal with all of Gilbert’s problems, too. Besides, he hadn’t finished the steps from Erzse’s designed plan to win him over just yet, and if he was truly supposed to pull off some sort of romantic miracle at the concert that weekend, he figured he should get a move on with the rest of it.

He returned home after a quick trip to the store to find Roderich nowhere in sight, likely hunched over a piano as usual. He sighed to himself, fearing the thoughts would grow even louder with no one to distract him, and turned the TV up to its highest volume, hoping to create a semblance of not being alone.

\--

When Roderich finally stumbled through the door a little past eleven at night, he wanted nothing more than to just collapse in bed. If it weren’t for his lingering desire for hydration, he certainly would have, but instead he found himself flicking on the kitchen light, heading for the faucet to pour himself a glass of water. He leaned against the counter as he drank, content to close his eyes and appreciate the late night silence knowing that Gilbert was only a few doors down, when something caught his eye on the table. He approached the gleaming red box to find it was a selection of Mozarts, with a note attached. In Gilbert’s messy handwriting, it read, “Some Mozarts for the little Mozart. :)”

Roderich smiled contagiously, unable to help the small giggle that fell past his lips. Perhaps Gilbert, although looking a bit tired as of late, hadn’t lost his unusual sweet side under his own mental torment, which gave Roderich confidence that he was healing after all.

_Day 77_

“I really think Gilbert is doing great,” Roderich tried to convince Ludwig, whose facial expression noted no such luck. “He’s making a lot of progress in dealing with some things. You may even see a different side of him once he moves back in. In fact, I think I’ll be sad to see him go.”

“I think he’ll be sad, too. He really likes you, Roderich,” Ludwig told him with a straight face, unaware that the comment made Roderich’s cheeks flare up.

“Ah, well, that’s nice. Um, speaking of him, by the way, I meant to ask you a favor…you know my concert is in a few days, right? I was wondering if you could watch him that night? Erzse is accompanying me, so I don’t want him to be alone.”

“He usually does just fine alone, but I don’t have any problem with it. It may be good for us to talk before he moves back in.”

“I agree,” Roderich nodded, pleased that Ludwig didn’t put up a fight over the suggestion. “Well, I’m glad that’s settled. If you could be there around 6, it would be wonderful. Now, shall we order?”

_Day 78_

It was understandably a big day, as it was the final straw in Gilbert and Erzse’s plan to successfully court Roderich. It was lucky that the man was out of the house so much, stressing over his piece and practicing it until his fingers bled, because Gilbert and Erzse needed all the time they could get to pull this one off.

“I can’t believe you went all the way to Budapest just to steal the recipe,” Gilbert commented from one corner of the kitchen, folding over the potato dough a million times to get it to be the right consistency.

“Roderich is extremely particular about his desserts, you should know. And my sister’s kaiserschmarrn is legendary, but I had to test it out on him just to make sure he really liked it. Of course, he did,” she smirked proudly, a meat hammer clenched tightly in her hands as she went to town on a piece of veal.

“Christ, don’t take all your anger out on it,” Gilbert winced, “we still got more setting up to do. My question, however, is do you think he’ll really take the bait? He’s so fuckin’ stressed I feel like nothing would make him leave that piano.” He ignored the fact that his own mental health had taken quite a hit, hiding his troubles carefully from nosy Erzse.

“Believe it or not, he cares for you deeply. So much so that he would even abandon his piano for you.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he scoffed, unconvinced and more than a bit frustrated with his sad excuse for dough. “Damn it, bitches, form already!”

\--

Roderich wasn’t exactly sure what part of his piece he had been rehearsing when his phone rang abruptly, the vibration stinging inside his pocket. His fingers achingly pulled it out and accepted once he saw it was Erzse. “What is it?”

“Oh my God, Roderich, you have to come quick!” Erzse yelled in a distressed tone, “Gilbert’s managed to escape! I have no idea how he’s done it, but I wasn’t looking for just a second and now he’s gone! Roderich, you have to—“

He hung up the phone and rushed out before he could waste any more time.

\--

Fearing the worst as he bolted through the opening elevator doors, Roderich ran into his apartment, not even questioning whether the door would be locked, slightly out of breath, gasping for air as he started to call out, “Erzse, are you—“

He was stopped momentarily by the gentle light of the room, clearly much dimmer than the lamps he had. He turned his attention to the source of the lights to find glowing candles sensually placed on the dining room table, which was covered in one of his nice tablecloths he kept in case guests came. The table was set in his best silverware, and behind it, as a sort of backdrop, his gleaming and wrinkle-free Austrian flag adorned his piano like a light blanket.

“Good evening,” came a voice from the corner of the hall, and Roderich turned a bit to find Gilbert standing smugly in an outfit that was far nicer than his regular attire: a crisp white button-down shirt, dark jeans, and a dark grey blazer to accompany it. He looked nothing short of breathtaking. “Care for dinner?”

Roderich burst into a series of small giggles, mostly out of pure confusion. “What is…what is this?”

“Well, you know how you said you miss Austria sometimes? I decided to bring Austria to you! Bon appetit,” he smiled charmingly, gesturing towards the table as Roderich practically floated towards it. There were all of his fattening favorites: Austrian wine, knödel, wiener schnitzel, spätzle…

“And for dessert, kaiserschmarrn.”

“I love you,” Roderich blurted out, the alluring smell of the food clearly dulling his senses as he realized what an absurd thing he had just said. “I mean, I love the food! I love that you did this.”

“Uh huh,” Gilbert winked at him, pulling out his chair in a measure of extreme chivalry. “Your seat, Little Master.”

“I swear, every day you think of dumber things to call me,” Roderich shook his head, sitting down regardless and looking at the tantalizing spread of food set before him with awe. “How did you…?”

“I’m an extremely talented, overly good looking, definition of perfection excuse for a human being, now eat, will ya? I didn’t make 20 kilos worth of food for you to just stare at it.”

They dug into the meal quickly, heaping piles of everything onto their plates and chatting freely in between bites. It felt like everything was where it should be: Gilbert was happy, they were sharing dinner together, and they both felt at ease. He missed these nights. He was going to miss them even more once Gilbert had left, in only two weeks from now.

Despite being stuffed to the brim, neither German-speaker could turn down the alluring kaiserschmarrn, dusted with confectioner’s sugar with a side of berry compote. “I dunno how the fuck all the archduchesses ate this all the time and kept their figures,” Gilbert said crassly, covering his mouth to try and burp discreetly.

“You have a berry stain on your shirt,” Roderich commented, dabbing at his lips with a napkin. “This was wonderful, Gilbert. Thank you. You really didn’t have to put in so much effort, or scare me by having Erzse call like that. Say, what were you doing with her, anyway?”

“Who do you think helped make all this food?”

Roderich ignored the pang of jealousy that rose up from his aching stomach, reaching for his wine glass to clear it away. “Well, at least on Saturday she’ll be able to enjoy the nice food instead of just making it.”

“Why’s that?”

“She’s coming to the symphony as my guest. Which reminds me Gilbert, I meant to tell you…”

This was the moment, Gilbert realized, the one where he gave Gilbert the proper invite, where they would share a kiss drunk off someone else’s whiskey on the balcony of the Munich Symphony building. This was what he was waiting for.

“…that Ludwig is going to be looking after you while I’m gone. I imagine I will be gone late into the night.”

That wasn’t right. “What?”

“Did you not hear me? I said…”

“No, I heard…I heard you.” Gilbert’s lips curled inward, and he sat up stiffly in his chair, glancing just past Roderich’s face towards the door.

“Speaking of, I really must get to bed soon, so if we could attend to the dishes now—“

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it.”

“Oh Gilbert, you spent all this time making the food, at least let me—“

“No,” Gilbert croaked, his tone rough around the edges, “I’ve got it. Go to bed, you’ll be busy tomorrow. I’ll follow you in shortly.”

Roderich stared at him, noticing how his eyes took a suddenly hollow form, and how all the previous light they held had gone out. He didn’t appear to want to argue on the matter, so Roderich conceded by standing up swiftly, placing his napkin back on the table. “Well, alright, if you insist. Thank you again for the lovely meal, and good night.”

As he retreated down the hallway, Gilbert stood halfway from his chair, leaning in to blow out the candles. He sat in the dark for a good twenty minutes before getting up.

_Day 79_

Once he got home from work that day, Gilbert wasted no time in storming over to Erzse’s, pointing a defiant finger at the woman as she was patiently glazing her papier-mache heart. “You, you son of a bitch, are a fuckin’ liar!”

Erzse held her paint brush up in the air as if she were answering to an enraged cop, her eyebrows knotted together in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, as it turns out, Roderich did not, in fact, invite me to the symphony. He just invited you!”

“What?! _Baszd!_ ” She yelled back, jumping off the chair she was standing on to approach her enraged German friend. “But he told me he would!”

“Well, what the fuck! He said Ludwig’s fuckin’ babysitting me again! So he definitely still doesn’t trust me, and he most definitely does not have feelings for me!”

“Gilbert, that can’t be true! He must have a reason—“

“Oh, fuck off, you dumb Hungarian slut!”

Erzse’s hostile expression directed back at him was a sign he had gone too far. “Okay, that was way harsh. I’m sorry. But I just don’t understand…”

“I’m sorry Gilbert, I don’t understand either…I fully thought it would work out this way, but I guess I was wrong…”

He knew she was trying to be comforting, but the deep pounding of his heart continued to rattle inside his hollow ribcage, and he felt nothing but numb.

_Day 80_

Roderich took care to make sure a single thing wasn’t out of place: the ruffles in his blouse were immaculate, his coat was freshly dry cleaned and the buttons were gleaming, and his hair was set in place with a long-holding hairspray. He grimaced a bit at his prominent mole, always finding it a minor annoyance, until the buzzer rang, likely to be Ludwig.

After he buzzed the man up, he turned to look at Gilbert, who hadn’t as much as gotten dressed that morning. Sprawled out lazily on the sofa, his face was set in a hardened frown. He hadn’t said much since their dinner the night before, and Roderich wondered if he was still struggling with his emotions since talking about his abuse. At the moment, he couldn’t focus on Gilbert; he was so nervous for his performance he was shaking.

A knock on the door led him to answer it swiftly, revealing Erzse in a gorgeous full black gown, hugged in tightly at the waist. “Hello, Sisi,” he gleamed at her, taking her hand to kiss it gently.

“Hello, Franz Joseph,” she responded, curtsying lightly.

“Hello, Gilbert,” came said man’s voice from the couch, as he lifted his head up to get a look at the pair. “Damn Erz, your boobs are huge.”

She giggled helplessly in response, while Roderich rolled his eyes at the obscene comment. He was about to chastise the man when another knock came from his door, and he opened it expecting Ludwig, when he was met with a slightly different result. “Ah, Ludwig…I see you’ve met up with…”

“Yes, we ran into each other on the lift.”

Gilbert poked his head up again to notice two blond figures standing at the door: his baby brother, dressed in regular casual attire, and Basch, dressed to the nines. The Swiss man was staring him down, and he returned the ugly glare without hesitation.

“Roderich, Erzsebet. You both look exquisite, as usual.”

Gilbert flashed his darkened eyes at Erzse, who looked just as shocked as he did.

“Shall we get going? Roderich and I both need to be there early.”

“Yes, of course. Are you ready, Erzse?”

She nodded lightly, giving Roderich a weak smile. Ludwig shook his best friend’s hand warmly, offering his best wishes, and headed to the sofa to join Gilbert.

Roderich looked over at Gilbert to say goodbye, but the man was no longer looking back at him; instead, he was turning the television volume up louder. He ignored the jump of his heart at the cold move and looked down at the floor, taking Erzse’s hand and following the impatient Basch out of the building. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly wanted to turn around and rip off his fancy coat, forgoing the dull symphony and spending time with his German friends instead. If it were not for Basch’s glare, he might have done it.

\--

Gilbert was chopping up carrots for their dinner in resignation. He wasn’t sure if he felt comfortable calling himself depressed before, but now he couldn’t help but realize what his mental state was. He thought distantly about shoving the knife into his chest, but it wasn’t a horribly meaningful thought, and he wouldn’t do something like that in front of his dear brother, no less.

He turned to look at Ludwig, who was watching a football match attentively. He had always envied that about his younger brother, his penchant to remain focused, resolved. When had he ever committed to something? School drop out, couldn’t hold a job, a failure of a person. The only thing he had committed to was drugs, and look where that got him.

God, he could feel it now, that burnt, sweet smell of fresh heroin, the sting of the needle against his thin skin…what he wouldn’t do for some of it at the moment. He couldn’t remember if he had anything left in his stash at Ludwig’s. Besides, he had no access to it anyway, unless he knocked Ludwig out and stole his keys or someth—

Like Roderich had done to him.

The sleeping pills.

He looked over at Ludwig again, to make sure he was truly focused on the TV, and made for the bedroom, feigning as though he was going to the bathroom. He closed the door and flushed the toilet for good effect, while in reality he was digging through the medicine cabinet. The pills were dead center, and he popped three from their protective coating, holding them in his hand like they were magic beans. He stuck them in his pocket, retreated to the kitchen, and continued preparing the soup—once he had dished them both steaming hot bowls, he crushed the pills into fine powder and stirred them into Ludwig’s portion, knowing he would never suspect a thing.

Throughout the entire meal Gilbert was on edge, although he forced himself to focus on eating, not wanting to give anything away. Only twenty minutes into the meal, Ludwig started yawning uncontrollably, his face fixed in confusion.

“I suddenly don’t feel very well…I think I might lie down, if that’s alright.”

“No worries,” Gilbert shrugged, his skin practically tingling.

Ludwig made his way to the sofa, and within a few minutes Gilbert could hear him snoring. He approached the man, a practical dead weight, and began loudly clapping his hands. “Ludwig!”

No response. Gilbert laughed.

He crossed the living room to toss on his trainers, rifling through Ludwig’s pockets to grab the keys. Feeling delighted at the lack of alarm once he opened the door, he slid out like a serpent and stole down the stairs, practically skipping to his freedom.

\--

They were several drinks in at the highly prestigious after party. Roderich’s face was glowing from the alcohol, and he laughed freely at the jokes of the other musicians and directors, while Erzse beamed behind him.

It must have been near two in the morning when Basch finally managed to pull him aside. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all night. You’re the talk of the town, _Herr Edelstein_.”

Roderich tossed his head a bit and laughed, arguing, “Oh, I was just alright. There were far more experienced players out there.”

“Oh, shut up. It’s getting quite late, you know. I was thinking you and Erzse could stay at mine, since you’re both a bit inebriated, and I live closer.”

“Sounds fine to me. Thank you for offering.”

“No problem,” Basch said, moving a hand to grasp at Roderich’s defined jaw, gently stroking the side of his face while his other arm came to slide around his waist.

“Basch, what are you doing?”

The man pulled away suddenly, looking a bit affronted. “I…I thought…I apologize. I thought you inviting me was…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lead you on, but…I just want us to be friends,” Roderich said softly, his mind clearing a bit at the shock of the interaction.

“It’s him, isn’t it? Gilbert. The reason you’re so distracted.”

“I…yes. It is him.”

Basch shook his head in annoyance, but he was smiling nonetheless. “He’s very lucky to have caught your eye. I wish you two the best of luck, once you man up and ask him out already.”

Roderich smiled back at his friend, shoving his shoulder playfully. “Hush already, and show us where your house is. I’m tired and a little drunk and I want to go to bed.”

\--

Once the locks clicked open and Gilbert toed into the quiet apartment, he let out a small sound of glee. Finally, _finally_ , he was getting his way again, after months of being denied his sole reason for living, his happiness, his joy. He locked the door behind him and rushed into his room, going for a box in his carry-on suitcase, where he normally kept his stash, to find nothing—no needles, no heroin, not even his spoon or lighter. Fuck, Ludwig really did deep clean.

For a moment he sat on his old bed, the sheets pristine and unwrinkled, and thought carefully. He had no heroin, he was sure his coke box had been cleaned out too…what about pills? Surely Ludwig grabbed his counterfeit oxy prescriptions…but what about the ones he left in that aspirin bottle, when he went to Ibiza for Antonio’s birthday and wanted to get it past security?

“Holy shit,” he mumbled to himself, raiding his bathroom cabinets until he popped open the aspirin bottle and dumped it into his hand, finding, as expected, an assortment of oxycontin tablets, bought off a money-hungry combat veteran in the bathroom of a Berlin U-Bahn station. Holy shit, indeed.

He thumbed over the pills with care, doing math in his head with rapid precision. Each tablet was 40 mg, so he could probably take two and get a fantastic high without dying from it. Of course, the risk of overdose came each time you did it, but at this point, he didn’t care to think about it.

He thought about Roderich for a brief moment, knowing he would be disappointed to see where he was, but then he remembered Roderich was dancing the night away with his Swiss boyfriend, and with that he crushed up the pills and snorted them without hesitation.

Within twenty minutes he was lying on the floor, completely overcome with the pleasant sensation of the opioids coursing through his body. He laughed absently, noticing that he was twitching a bit from the sheer shock of being acquainted with his long-time vice once more. In his euphoric state he brought a cigarette to his lips and smoked it while tears poured down his eyes, his body clinging to the linoleum as he wasted away through the night.

_Day 81_

Roderich and Erzse were exhausted the next morning as they took the bus back to their apartment, both still clad in their fine dress although it wasn’t nearly as fine the next day. They slunk up the elevator tiredly, and once they reached the floor they clambered into Roderich’s apartment, with Erzse throwing her heels across the room and Roderich letting his keys fall with a sharp clatter on the kitchen counter.

“I think I have some orange juice in my—say, why is it so quiet in here?”

“Oh my God,” Erzse muttered, standing over the sofa in a rigid position. Roderich followed her to see what was the concern, and his mouth practically split open once he saw a groggy Ludwig struggling to wake up.

“Ludwig? Where is Gilbert?”

“I have no idea, but I feel like I’ve been sleeping for hours…”

“Gilbert?” Roderich called, not satisfied with the lack of instant response and proceeding to check all the rooms of the house. When he found nothing but his sleeping pills open across the bathroom counter, he began to panic. “ _Scheiße._ ”

He ran back into the living room, where the barely awake Ludwig was checking his pockets with a look of defeat. “My keys are gone,” he whispered, his brow started to knot together, as Erzse directed a ghost-like glance at Roderich.

The next bus couldn’t come fast enough, so they ran.

\--

They didn’t hear anything from outside Ludwig’s door, which made Roderich even more nervous as the German pounded against it. “Gilbert! Damnit, Gilbert, open the door!”

“Move out of my way,” Erzse pushed him, steadying herself as she pushed her body weight and her billowing ballgown into the door and broke it open, the door knob clattering onto the floor with a sharp ring.

“Gilbert, where are you?!” Ludwig called, while Erzse began to search and Roderich stood frozen in shock.

“He’s here,” Erzse responded from down the hall, and Ludwig and Roderich rushed to the scene: inside the small bathroom, Gilbert was leaning against the bathtub, his eyes bloodshot and his shirt dashed with vomit as an arm was leaning unsteadily over the toilet. Spread around him were a dozen half-smoked cigarettes and an open aspirin bottle, with red aspirin pills accompanied by slightly larger white ones.

“Fuck, I should’ve known you would be hiding the oxycontin in a different bottle! Gilbert, you nuisance, how could you!” Ludwig barked at him, standing defiantly over him with rage. “Get up! Get up already.”

“Oh, Gilbert,” Erzse said breathlessly, her hands clasped tightly together. “How could you…”

“Come on, damnit, get up! You think you can just do whatever you want all the time? You’re never going to get better! Just as I thought!”

Gilbert weakly pushed himself up, a pained look on his face as he did. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled slowly, coughing as he dusted some cigarette ash off his shirt.

“You’re never sorry. You always do the same things, over and over again. I’m so mad I can’t even look at you right now!”

Gilbert looked as though he wanted to say something, but before he could try and find the words Roderich interrupted with: “Enough, Ludwig. Come on, we’re going home.”

Ludwig looked at Roderich in exhaustion, but Roderich’s sharp facial expression, a deep-lined frown and solid, unmoving eyes, convinced Ludwig against arguing. Erzse put an arm around the stumbling Gilbert as Roderich led the way, and they headed out into the Munich daylight, a world revolving around them while theirs was crushed to pieces.

_Day 82_

The withdrawal had come back, and it was really like they were back at square one. Of course it wouldn’t last as long or be as painful this time, but the pitiful sound of Gilbert throwing up or whining from his bedroom, as he had refused to come out during his tenure, made Roderich’s heart ache. He did what he thought he was best: he called Ivan and told him Gilbert had come down with a horrid flu, excusing him from work for the week, and he brought food outside his door, which was as much interaction as the man seemed to be able to handle. Other than that all he could do was sit helplessly at the kitchen table, wondering how things had gone so wrong.

_Day 83_

While Gilbert was still confined to bed, Roderich decided to go over to Erzse’s in search of answers. She was the only person who may have a semblance of an idea of what was going on.

They were both extremely quiet, hardly touching the customary cups of coffee she had set before them. Roderich played absently with his fingers, which were finally recovering after weeks of non-stop piano playing, until Erzse broke the silence with a firm accusation:

“Roderich, why are you such an idiot?”

“Excuse me?”

She merely laughed in his face, which only turned his confusion into anger. “You really don’t know what made him upset, do you?”

“I have an idea, but I don’t know if it has anything to do with what you’re thinking.”

“Oh? Enlighten me.”

He struggled, “To an extent, I can’t, for his own privacy, as I have no clue what he’s told you. Perhaps more than me, seeing as you two are…quite close.”

This time Erzse was laughing even harder, which made Roderich’s blood boil. “What is so funny?!”

“It’s just…first, he thought you were into me, and now, you thought he was into me…good God, you guys are hopeless. Just, extremely hopeless.”

Roderich, who was staring at her silently, waited for her to continue.

“Roderich, Gilbert has a thing for you. A big thing. Huge thing. All the lovey feelings, for you. And because you are an oblivious fool, and you were so worked up with this thing involving _me_ , you didn’t notice at all, and instead continued to invite Basch to things, which broke his poor, poor, fragile little heart. And that was probably the tipping point of why he did what he did. Did you see his face that night?”

Roderich, stunned, was silent.

“And how could you fail to pick up on it after all those romantic gestures? Jesus, how high did you score on the PISA, again?”

Silence.

“And because I know that you like him too, I encouraged him. I spent the afternoon with my damn crazy sister to steal her kaiserschmarrn recipe, so he could make it for you. And you snapped his heart into his pieces. Roderich, I love you to death, but you are a damn fool.”

Finally, a tiny voice emerged from behind Roderich’s quivering lips. “I ruined everything.”

Erzse laughed once more, but it was soft and gentle this time, as she shook her head repeatedly. She stood from her seat, the chair legs dragging against the floor and emitting an unpleasant sound, and went to retrieve her papier-mache heart. In one solid move, she threw it against the wall, and the hardened figure smashed into an array of tiny pieces.

“What the hell was that for?!”

“Look at it,” she gestured, picking up one larger intact piece to demonstrate, “it’s broken now. Things break. It’s life. But I can put it back together again. With some tough glue and some more glaze and a little love. It’s never going to look exactly the same—but maybe it will look better.”

At some point, Roderich realized he was crying.

“Don’t give up on him. Fix it.”

In the next moment Erzse was by his side, and he was grateful, as he leaned into her side to cry quietly.

_Day 84_

The sound of the clock was almost louder that day, the ticking causing the hairs on Roderich’s arms to rise involuntarily. He sat hunched at the kitchen table, trying but failing to read a magazine, when the bedroom door opened, and it was not immediately followed by the closing of the bathroom door. He turned hesitantly to see Gilbert, still looking a bit sickly, in the middle of the hallway, his arms crossed and his eyes, as ever, piercing.

“Go ahead,” he said blankly.

“Go ahead what?”

“Go ahead and yell at me. Just like Ludwig did. Just get it over with,” he replied shamefully, his hands grasping at the fabric of his shirt in search of stability.

Roderich didn’t say anything, as he lingered on how best to start.

Gilbert didn’t wait any longer. “Didn’t you hear me? I said go ahead, yell at me, tell me how much of a useless piece of shit I am! Just do it already! Fuck if I care! Tell me the truth, god damnit! I can’t do this anymore!” His face was covered in sloppy tears before he had any control over it, and his voice trembled uneasily. “I’m sorry, Roderich. I’m so, so sorry. But I told you not to believe in me, that I would fuck up all over again, and it’s exactly what I did. God, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m going to kill myself on these fucking drugs and I don’t even care. It’s what I deserve.”

“I invited Basch because I thought you had feelings for Erzse, and I wanted to quash any chance of you two getting together because I was jealous,” Roderich interrupted him, looking away so he could speak without being distracted by the man’s face. “Also, I was nervous to play piano in front of you, because you make me nervous. Because I worried that if I played badly, you would judge me, or not like me enough, or something like that. Strangers don’t make me nervous, but you do.” He stood and approached Gilbert slowly, who was wiping away his tears with unsteady hands as his mouth fell open. “I have never been in love before, but I think I might be now. Or pre-love. Something close to love. Something that when nurtured a bit more, with more attention and care, will blossom into love in a matter of months, weeks even. I think…I think I love you. And I think you love me too. And I think, no, I know, that I never want to hear you degrade yourself again, because I know how hard you’re trying. People make mistakes. You made one. I did too. But we’ll move past it. You are going to get better, and I am going to be right next to you the entire time, holding your hand and encouraging you, just as you have done for me.”

Gilbert was crying again, but so was he, he noticed, as he took Gilbert’s hand in his. That hand, which was shaking uncontrollably, was calloused and rough in some places, with sharp, untrimmed nails. That palm had held pills, but it had also held books, and forks, and flowers, and now it held life, and it wasn’t ever going to let go.

“Say it again,” Gilbert choked out.

“I love you,” Roderich responded softly.

That night, they slept in the same bed again, side by side, holding hands.

_Day 85_

They stayed in bed far longer than they should have, their foreheads pressed together lightly as they mumbled quietly amongst themselves.

“You love me,” Gilbert teased, sticking his tongue out at his Austrian companion, whose hair was messy and voluminous from a good night of sleep.

“I can still take my statement back, you know,” Roderich retorted, wanting to reach for his glasses but feeling too lazy to do so.

“Yeah, but you won’t. Cause you looooove me.”

“I got a good verbal assaulting from Erzse over my cluelessness.”

“Good, you deserved it. You really thought I would clean the house for next to no reason?”

Roderich rolled his eyes and he moved to cuddle closer to Gilbert’s chest, the ever-present tobacco smell comforting him. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

“Psh, and me too, _prinzessin_. It took all of my might not to ravage you once I found out you were queer.”

“Did Erzse tell you that?!”

“No, Ludwig did,” he laughed, knowing that would be even more infuriating to the Austrian. “I kept pressing him for details on your romantic history and he told me about Swiss cheese. Speaking of, I’m guessing Ludwig’s not gonna be speaking to me for a while.”

“I think we’ll have lunch tomorrow, so I’ll speak to him,” Roderich sighed lightly, feeling more calm as he felt Gilbert’s fingers sifting through his hair.

“Good luck. I’ve never seen him that mad. He probably wants nothing to do with me now.” Gilbert frowned, content that Roderich couldn’t see it from his position. “I mean, I really fucked up. I was clean for so long and then I ruined everything.”

“Oh Gilbert, it was just one slip up…it happens sometimes, even when you’re really trying.”

“I need a new addiction. Something positive. Maybe food. Maybe I’ll just get really fat.” With a sudden wry smile, he gently pulled Roderich’s face up to look into his small sparkling eyes and mutter, “Maybe I’ll become addicted to you.

“While I won’t be the one to encourage any of your addictions,” Roderich winked at him, “I can’t say I won’t tempt you with my presence.” Closing the gap between them, he pressed his soft lips against Gilbert’s, parting them with a flash of tongue as his hands rested tenderly on Gilbert’s shoulders.

Gilbert returned the kiss with a widening smirk, stroking the side of Roderich’s face with his thumb after he pulled away. “You’re right. I think I could just kiss you all the time and that could make up for it. Like, how cool is this now, that we’re like, together? We can make out all the time, just like we did last night.”

The embarrassment that Roderich was trying to stow was easily present on his reddened face. “You’re too much.”

“Aww, you’re embarrassed. Come on, you know you liked me sticking my tongue down your throat, my body grinding against yours…”

“I don’t need a play-by-play recap,” Roderich whined, retreating back into Gilbert’s chest so he no longer had to look at his assailant.

“And we haven’t even had sex yet!”

“Do not push it, Beilschmidt, you horny dog.”

“I’m guessing you’re a virgin, yeah?”

Roderich said nothing in response, hoping his ears weren’t turning as red as they felt.

“Ah, you totally are! It’s okay, I’ll be gentle with you!”

“That’s it, I’m going to get water,” Roderich groaned, pushing up from the bed and storming down the hallway in his pajamas, ignoring the sound of Gilbert laughing raucously in the background.

_Day 86_

It was a far tenser meeting than Roderich had expected, which is why he was glad they were in public. Ludwig’s cross expression hadn’t left his face since they had sat down, and Roderich was more convinced that Gilbert may have had a point the day before.

“I see you’re upset,” he tried casually, bringing his teacup to his lips, which were a bit swollen from all the kisses he had recently been the recipient of.

“That’s an understatement,” Ludwig replied, absently checking his watch. “The real question is, why aren’t you?”

“Because people make mistakes, and that’s exactly what happened. Just because he’s messed up a lot in the past doesn’t mean he isn’t genuinely sorry.”

“You haven’t lived with him for as long as I have.”

“That doesn’t matter. I feel fine.”

“I’m not exactly in any sort of mood to try and welcome him back into living with me after this.”

Roderich sighed, his frustration evident, and let his teacup harshly hit the table with an unpleasant ringing sound. “Ludwig, you are my best friend, and you always will be, but right now I’m going to be brutally honest with you: you’re not being a good brother. I understand you’re distrustful after so much that’s happened, but Gilbert needs someone who can consistently believe in him even when he struggles, and you just can’t be that person. So, he’s not going anywhere. He’s going to keep staying with me.”

Ludwig’s face displayed a hint of shock at Roderich’s firm tone, and he opened his lips hesitantly before speaking. “I…I am not sure what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything. I’ve made my decision and I’m not interested in your opinion.”

“This must be what Basch was talking about…he mentioned to me that you’ve changed a lot.”

“So what?” Roderich became defensive, his eyes sharpening into a cold stare. “Maybe I’ve changed for the better. Had you ever considered that? Why don’t we just eat lunch and stop talking. I think I’ve had enough talking for now.”

Ludwig was taken aback, but did as he was told. They ate quietly, and said their goodbyes quickly after.

\--

Once Roderich returned home, Gilbert was all over him, pulling him into a tight embrace and clinging like a sloth to a tree branch. “I wanted to do this all the time before, so I’m doing it now to make up for lost time.”

“Believe me, if you were wanting to embrace me, I was wanting the same thing,” Roderich lulled back at him, returning the hug tiredly.

“How was my brother? Bitter yet punctual, the face of every German?”

“Essentially. But I told him that he needs to be more receptive, that you’ll be staying here with me, and that—“

“Wait, what? I’m staying here?”

“Well, yes. As long as that’s not a problem for you.”

“I mean, it’s not, but…can’t I help you with rent or something?”

Roderich let out a cutting laugh, covering his mouth at the slightly rude noise. “Um, I am guessing that this place is probably more than what you’re currently making. Like, a lot more.”

“Okay, fair point Little Master, but I don’t like feeling like I’m living off your shit. It’s unmanly. Can’t I pay for the electricity or something?”

“Only if you stop calling me dumb nicknames,” Roderich frowned jokingly, Gilbert’s brightened eyes and small smile ceasing to make him unhappy for long.

“Okay, it’s a deal. But hey, _schatz_ isn’t dumb, right?”

Roderich responded with a kiss to the German’s forehead. “Of course not.”

_Day 87_

The Hofgarten was busier that day; the weather was nicer, and more of Munich’s natives and the frequent tourists from Austria were out and about. They sat side by side on a bench, Gilbert smoking and Roderich reading, holding hands.

“You’re going to have to quit eventually, you know,” Roderich said, not looking up from his book for a second.

“Yeah, yeah. One fuckin’ vice at a time. My brain is fucked all over again for heroin so I think I’m gonna need a while.”

“I understand. For the time being, the tobacco scent is very attractive on you.”

Gilbert winked at him, crushing his dead cigarette underneath his foot. “Aw yeah, I knew you found me sexy.”

“If that wasn’t obvious before, yes, you’re a very good-looking man. I am a bit envious.”

“Of what!? You’re hot too!”

“Oh please, have you seen me? My nose is too big for my face, I hate this mole, I weigh too much—“

He was interrupted by a surprise kiss, which caused him to drop his book on the ground, scaring some nearby pigeons.

“Gilbert! We’re in public!”

“Didn’t you tell me I can’t degrade myself anymore? Well, neither can you!”

“But—“

“Hush. You’re my darling _spätzchen_ and I won’t let you be mean to yourself. I think you’re hot, and my word is the word of God.”

“That explains your ginormous ego…”

“Says the man whose like, ‘Oh, look at me, I’m an Austrian, I climb mountains and hate foreigners and speak shitty German!’”

“I do not speak shitty German, and I don’t hate foreigners! I am a foreigner here!”

“You know what I meant!”

They bickered like this until the sun started to go down, scaring passersby who thought they were in the midst of a serious fight. It was only in the privacy of their own home that they devolved into a sea of affection for each other, of course.

_Day 88_

Erzse hadn’t stopped smiling since the moment they sat down, and it was starting to appear a bit creepy, especially to Roderich, who had never seen his friend so happy for him before.

“Are ya just gonna stare at us the whole damn time or something?” Gilbert eventually asked, tiring of the woman’s persistent gaze.

“I’m just so glad my plan finally worked out,” she hummed, stirring a spoon in her coffee slowly.

“As if we wouldn’t have gotten together without your assistance…”

“I mean, you wouldn’t have. You’re both numbskulls when it comes to romance,” she giggled, delighting in their equally annoyed faces. “So what’s next for you two, then?”

“I have a few more weeks left in the semester, and Gilbert here is going to keep going to work, isn’t that right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I ain’t gonna work there forever, though. I wanna be a politician.”

Erzse snorted into her coffee cup, her mouth twisting in a weak attempt to hold her laughter. “You what?”

“Don’t laugh, girlie! Even Roderich said I would be good at it! I wanna help people!”

Roderich looked a bit sheepish, but he nodded even under Erzse’s questioning glance. “I suppose I did say that, after all.”

“The day you become Chancellor is the day I admit you’re better than me at everything.”

Gilbert, never one to back down from a challenge, slammed his hand on the table, ignoring Roderich’s slight jump. “It’s a deal, damnit!”

_Day 89_

Even though he had been coming to this office for several weeks now, Gilbert felt extremely awkward walking in after being gone for so long. The slightly judgmental looks on his coworkers’ faces—especially Feliks, who turned to Toris and began sputtering out rapid-fire gossip—made him even more uncomfortable as he slunk back into his desk chair, firing up the computer and ignoring his tired face in the screen reflection.

He had another nightmare the day before. It wasn’t nearly as bad this time, and he didn’t manage to wake Roderich up, but he was still irritated. Weren’t these supposed to go away now, now that he had started talking about his dumb feelings and whatever? He buried his face in his hands and sighed. What a start to an already shit day.

“You are back!” came a far too cheerful voice from behind him, and before he could turn to greet his boss the Russian man’s hands came down hard on his shoulders, rubbing them a bit aggressively. “We missed you, little German man!”

“Wow, uh, thanks Ivan. Sorry, I got pretty sick last week.”

“I hope you did not drink any of milk in fridge! There was battery acid in it! Experiment of a science, yes?”

Gilbert felt himself start to sweat nervously, truly wondering whether he drank any of that milk. “Okay, well, I’ll get back to work, then…”

“Yes! Oh, there may be a visitor today, he only speaks Chinese, just point him to office and disconnect phone lines, yes?”

“Sure, whatever you say.” He made a mental note to look for a new job.

_Day 90_

The schedule had gotten back to normal quite quickly, and now Roderich was beating Gilbert home, working on his homework peacefully until the German bounded through the door with whatever new complaints he had. Today, however, he was far more reserved, and Roderich picked up on it easily, although he waited for Gilbert to tell him what was wrong with patience.

“I got an email today from the director of the Vienna Symphony,” he started, trying to finish up the last of his homework so he could fully unwind for the day.

“Oh yeah? What about?”

“She came to the concert and really liked my performance. So she spoke with some of her colleagues and she told me to get in touch with her once I graduate next year, because they may have a position for me.”

“Holy shit,” Gilbert grinned, reaching over to pat Roderich on the shoulder, “are you serious? You’re so cool, _schatz_. Can you imagine working for them? That’s like, your dream.”

“I know,” Roderich smiled back at him, happy that Gilbert shared his enthusiasm over the news.

They returned to a natural-feeling silence afterwards, perfectly content with not speaking every second and just being in each other’s presence. It was just another one of those little things that made them work so well.

A few minutes later, after munching on some apple slices in peace, Gilbert asked, “Could you give me your phone number? I need it for something.”

Roderich ripped a piece of paper out of his notation book and scribbled it down for him, responding, “What for?”

Gilbert looked a bit embarrassed, glancing away from Roderich’s gaze. “Eh. I, uh, was just Googling stuff at work, and I…I found a doctor I think I wanna see.”

Roderich felt a blaze of pride burst through his heart, but he didn’t let on. “Is that so?”

“Someone who specializes in like, childhood trauma and crap. So, maybe something good for me.” With that, he folded the paper and stuck it in the back pocket of his jeans, standing to retrieve a glass of water.

Roderich, unable to stow the smile on his face, followed him over to the sink, hugging him from behind in a move that surprised the German. “I’m so proud of you, _schatzchen_.”

Gilbert shook his head in mock annoyance, nevertheless reaching to take one of Roderich’s hands in his. “Oh, whatever.”

“I mean it. You’ve come so far.”

“Did you ever imagine that things would end up like this? Like, you would end up dating your best friend’s brother, whose house you used to crash at on the weekends as a teenager?”

“Life has a funny way of working out,” Roderich said, propping his chin against Gilbert’s shoulder. “I love you, you know.”

“And I love you too, you annoying Austrian,” Gilbert laughed back at him, turning his head to sneak a quick kiss, which was, of course, quickly returned.

90 days had, somehow, come and gone.

 


	4. 1 Year Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,  
> So this is the first epilogue to the story; it's just a short little companion piece meant to wrap some things up/tell you where they land in the future. The second epilogue exists to do the same but it's more of a plot twist, and it steps farther into the future.   
> So enjoy!

It took all four of them to move most of the stuff—some things they just had to leave behind, as Roderich could just as easily buy new furniture and raid the his closet at his family house (“Rich bastard,” Gilbert had scoffed) and traveling by train made it hard to carry too much.

The train ride was pleasant enough, with Gilbert pulling out a pack of cards early on and cheating his way through several rounds of poker with his brother and Erzse as Roderich read a book. The sound of them all laughing was the sweetest thing he had ever heard.

Once they arrived they took two taxis—due to the sheer amount of suitcases, one wouldn’t suffice—to the new apartment. After much arguing, they came to a compromise—it had to be a decent apartment, but within Gilbert’s price range, as he insisted on contributing to the rent. The resulting apartment was small, in a slightly dirty area of Vienna, and was on the third floor of an antiquated building, but it managed to suit them far better than they initially imagined. There was one bedroom, the washing machine was in the bathroom, and the balcony was more of a ledge than anything else, but Roderich’s piano could still be squeezed into the living room, and it was cozy, perfect for the two of them.

Once they managed to drag every last thing up the winding steps, leaving everyone incredibly winded and Roderich near death, Gilbert coughed a bit and started his part of the prepared script. “So I guess Lud and I will share the bed for the night, cause we’re brothers after all.”

Roderich, pretending to be affronted, scoffed back, “I think not! My back is aching after all that moving. Erzse and I will take the bed.”

“Dude, you hardly touched anything! You complained halfway up the stairs and gave up!”

“We don’t all have time to go to the gym every day!”

“Have you _ever_ been to the gym?”

“That’s enough, you two,” Ludwig sighed loudly, grabbing his older brother’s shoulder to signal for him to let it go. “Gilbert and I will sleep in the living room, and Roderich and Erzse can have the bed. Won’t you two ever get along? Not even after more than a year of living together…”

They hadn’t told Ludwig that they were dating, not because they were afraid he was homophobic—that obviously wasn’t the case—but because they worried how he would react to his best friend being in a relationship with his older brother. To their credit, Ludwig didn’t seem to catch any of the signs of their romance, from Roderich dozing off on Gilbert’s shoulder during long train rides to Gilbert’s obsession with hitting the weekend flower market to bring Roderich fresh flowers. He assumed the moments of affection were part of their abnormal relationship, which included frequent bickering that he was constantly breaking up when he was around.

Life moved quickly in that past year—Roderich and Ludwig both graduated from university, each with distinction. Gilbert was overjoyed to watch his brother receive his diploma, but Ludwig was even happier to see Gilbert, clean from drugs and healthy, cheering him on. The brothers had happily reconciled after that last drug incident, and Gilbert made an effort to involve himself more in Ludwig’s life again, mostly by going to his football club matches. He had become an extremely talented player somewhere between the years, and Gilbert was convinced football was his real calling. After graduation he signed on to a minor club as a defender, further proving his older brother’s point.

“It’s not even _Bundesliga_ ,” he tried to downplay sheepishly.

“Not yet,” Gilbert had countered, “but maybe you’ll be _ein Rote_ one day.”

Roderich, meanwhile, had been hired on with the Vienna Philharmonic as an assistant artistic director, which, considering he was fresh out of university, was a considerable step up. His sheer pride at the job made it easy for Gilbert to agree to the move—he had never been partial to Munich anyway, and although he would miss his brother, they were never too far.

Erzse, who had been watching the fake conversation play out with a shake of her head, also had major plans: after pitching her art to gallery and getting a few pieces displayed, a Turkish curator asked her to come for an exhibit in the CerModern. She was due to move out in a mere three weeks.

Gilbert had continued working for Ivan until the move, when he happily informed his boss of his need to quit. Although it was a moment of sheer bliss, being able to finally say goodbye to the hellish office, he quickly realized that meant he was without a job. He liked working, not only to make his own money, but to have something to do with his time; without work, he felt restless, which always made him think of drugs. He had been going to a therapist for a while now, and while it was helping him tremendously to be able to talk about things he had buried from the past, he could never shake the desire for drugs, even if it became more distant.

The answer to his joblessness came from a shocking source: Basch, who had stayed in touch with and visited the pair since they got together, mentioned a contact he had in Vienna who was working at an asylum center for incoming refugees. They needed patient people to help teach them German, and while it didn’t pay terribly well, Gilbert jumped on it. “I like working with people,” he reasoned giddily to Roderich, who was a bit skeptical but nonetheless happy. “Especially if they’re not Ivan.”

One year and three months later, and here they were.

\--

They were all far too exhausted from the moving and unpacking, so the picnic lunch dream that Roderich had was tossed aside in favor of Vienna’s finest Lebanese takeout. They gathered near a secluded spot on the Danube, spreading out a blanket that had been used to pack tea dishes, and ate leisurely, the gleam of the low sun and the pleasant trickle of the water providing a picturesque backdrop to the busy past few days they had shared.

“It’s weird to think we’re all headed our separate ways,” Roderich commented, watching from the corner of his eye as Gilbert lit a cigarette.

“I don’t think I can imagine us not being neighbors anymore,” Erzse told him, a pouty frown on her face.

“And I don’t think I can imagine us living more than twenty minutes apart,” Ludwig added, reaching for another can of beer.

“Blah blah, you people are so sad and mopey. Ever heard of the telephone?”

“Gilbert, don’t be rude.”

“You two are not going to survive living together without Erzse and I to reel you in…”

“Oh, relax, _bruder_ , we’ll be just fine, right Specs?” He ignored Roderich’s glare and Erzse’s laugh as he blew out a ring of smoke. “You worry over nothing. Say, _schatz_ , can ya pass me a napkin?”

The omission caused Roderich and Erzse to freeze, as Ludwig slowly lowered the can from his lips in confusion. Gilbert, who didn’t register the slip-up, questioned, “What?”

“ _Bruder_ , did you just call him _schatz_?”

“Oh, shit. Uh. No?”

“Way to go, Gilbert,” Roderich sputtered out, red from his ears to his neck as he ignored Ludwig’s look in his direction.

“I can’t help it, damnit! I call you _schatz_ more than I call you by your fucking name!”

“What is going on?!”

“Time to confess,” Erzse taunted, stuffing some more bread in her mouth as she watched like an enthralled spectator.

Gilbert and Roderich looked at each other, each feeling awkward and unsure of how to approach the subject. Finally, Gilbert let out a loud sigh and said, “Alright, Ludwig? I’m fucking your best friend.”

“Jesus, Gilbert!” Roderich pushed him over, seething as the man laughed once he rolled onto the grass. Erzse was snorting and turned to face the river to regain her composure, while Ludwig had a blank expression, his blinking eyes the only sign of life in his body.

“…what?”

“You heard me the first time! Roderich, me, we’re dating! We have been almost this whole damn time!”

Ludwig was still looking at Roderich, supposedly the voice of reason in this moment. Struggling to speak, Roderich finally managed, “He is telling the truth…we are together.”

After a few more seconds, Ludwig broke into an uneasy smile, obviously quite confused but seemingly not bothered. “Well, why didn’t you tell me that earlier?”

Gilbert, who had rolled back up into a sitting position and was once more attentively smoking, grabbed Roderich’s hand playfully and used it to point at Ludwig. “Wait, you’re not upset?”

“No. A little confused, I guess, because I didn’t see it coming…”

“Obliviousness runs in the family,” Erzse quipped in the background.

“But I don’t mind…are you treating him well, Gilbert?”

“Oh, of course, I’m still the bad guy. Don’t ask how he’s treating me, your brother. That’s not what matters here.”

“He knows that I need to be treated like a prince, that’s all.”

“More like a _prinzessin_.”

“Gilbert!”

“It’s always like this, isn’t it?” Ludwig turned to Erzse, who was discreetly taking pictures of the arguing couple with a goofy smile on her face.

“Oh, yes. Always.”

\--

They said goodbye at the station later that night, where Erzse and Ludwig would take the train back to Munich. Gilbert found himself with a bit of a stomach ache, and although Roderich tried to offer him some medicine, he knew it wouldn’t help, and he would have to address the cause of his pain head-on.

While Roderich was speaking to Ludwig, he made his move. “Erz, uh, can I talk to you?”

“I think you already are,” she laughed, her bright green eyes nearly glowing in the dimming light of the train station by night.

“Haha. No, like, over there?”

She shrugged and set her bags down, following Gilbert a few steps away to lean against a board displaying departure times. “What’s up?”

Gilbert gazed towards the outline of the moon forming in the looming ceiling windows. “It’s just…God, I hate being like this.”

Erzse became a bit concerned, not used to seeing Gilbert look so lost. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m just going to miss you, okay?”

She nearly gasped at the admission, controlling herself at the last second. “Oh, Gilbert…”

“And look, don’t do anything stupid in Ankara because Turkey isn’t always the safest place, alright? Just, be fucking normal! Or blend in! I’m going to kill you if you get hurt!” He tried to focus on the moon again, but he knew it wasn’t working when he felt the blur at the side of his eyes.

“Are you crying?”

“Fuck you! I’m not!” By this point they had captured Ludwig and Roderich’s attention, but Gilbert had his back to them.

Erzse rushed forward and pulled the German into a tight hug, smirking a bit as she realized she was just a little taller than he was. “I’m going to miss you too, you big dork. You’re my best friend too, you know.”

Gilbert, who was crying softly into her shirt, choked out, “Just get on the fucking train so I don’t have to look at you anymore, you damn Hungarian.”

“I’ll see you soon,” she laughed at him, trying to keep her own tears from falling as she parted from him and retrieved her bags, passing by the dumb-struck Germanic pair and hopping onto the train. “Come on Lud, it’s going to leave in a few minutes.”

“Bye, Gilbert,” Ludwig called out to his brother, who was leaning against the pole, back still turned to the crowd.

“Eat your vegetables,” he sobbed back at Ludwig, covering his eyes with one of his arms and crying even as Roderich came to his side, placing a gentle hand on his back. He cried until the train had rolled out of the station, until the platform fell silent and others had left the track, when he turned and let himself fall into Roderich’s hold.

“I hate her so much,” he commented tiredly, tugging on Roderich’s coat as they staggered out of the train station together.

“I know you do, _engelein_.”

They walked hand in hand to their new home, which they bought together, under the light of the pale moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lud and Gil are talking about Bayern Munich football. Ein rote: a red, and they're sometimes called the reds

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes on translation:  
> Blode fotze: stupid cunt. The word cunt is a pretty harsh one in this context (it's not always considered so harsh in certain areas)  
> Saupreiss: It's a Southern German insult for northern Germans. Sau is equivalent to sow (a female pig) and in this context means 'stupid' or 'idiot' and preiss is, well, Prussian.  
> Fickfehler: literally 'fuck error', like it was a mistake that you were born


End file.
